The Loss Of One To Gain Another
by The Moonlight's Marionette
Summary: AU Ichigo/Byakuya. Kuchiki Byakuya has fallen from grace and landed hard in the streets of Rukongai. Forced to work as a male escort he must abandon his very last last possession. His pride.
1. Beneath the Red Parasol

*Ahem* Sorry I'm taking so long in updating Symphony of Souls XD I was working on this piece. This is AU. Byakuya isn't in the gotei 13 he's just a rich young noble. I can't give away Ichigo's role but they do not know each other. This will eventually contain lemon so you've been warned :D. Tell me what you think! I used normal ages because my tiny brain can't understand soul society's complicated system -_- . I mean people are captains for hundreds of years and don't age *shrugs* *shares the love and cyber brownies for reviewers!*

* * *

Thunder rumbled faintly somewhere in the distance as a mass of dark clouds gathered from the east and began to completely cover the sky over the forty-fifth district in West Rukongai. It was going to rain again, it seemed.

Kuchiki Byakuya fairly enjoyed the rain, that is, when he remembered sitting in the warmth and comfort of his home while watching it patter softly outside. When he thought about it now- the cold droplets soaking through his worn yukata and chilling him to the bone – he really couldn't find a tolerance for it.

It also made it hard for him to sleep, something he once liked to do on rainy days. The pieces of card that served as his make-shift shelter would get soggy and rip, leaving him completely vulnerable. When the rain stopped he would always have to trek out to find more. It was beneath him, and went against his personal teachings, but sometimes, he'd have to take more forcefully, even from those who were just as unfortunate as himself. Colds were more frequent, and without medicine or somewhere warm to stay, he had to contend with them for several days until they passed.

If anyone would have told him months before that he – the proud heir to the Kuchiki clan - would be spending his nights sleeping on the hard ground and his days searching for food, he wouldn't have believed them or even spared them a reply.

An icy glare maybe. He had enough of those to spare, but not a response to such an unbelievable claim. How could such a thing befall a noble such as himself?

They would have been correct though. As completely ludicrous and outrageous as the idea was, it had somehow come to pass.

It had all happened so quickly, and yet when he had finally gotten wind of it, he found out that it was a culmination of a slow progression of events. Like a disease, festering over the years in the dark.

The proud and noble Kuchiki clan had been plotting in the shadows.

He would never have believed it if he hadn't seen it with his own eyes. How could they? After all the work their ancestors put in to raise the Kuchiki name to the top, bring the clan into the circle of the four great nobles; made it a name that demanded respect and admiration wherever it was whispered. How could they have thrown that away!

He had been blissfully unaware of their happenings, but who would believe such a thing when the entire family was dragged in the mud? Who would even listen over the blare of a crumbling infrastructure?

Apparently, they had long since sided with Aizen when they realized his potential. They assisted him secretly, but hesitant about his intentions, they took their time in coming to terms with where they truly stood. In the end they'd chosen the subtle allure of power that he emitted and showed on rare occasions. The deadly pull of everything he represented.

They should have expected the consequences when dancing with the devil. Someone who betrayed those that had all trust in him without the slightest bit of remorse would never be loyal. Not to anyone. Obvious. But blocked out by the blind eye they turned. The naïve eye.

Aizen, of course, betrayed them, and ghosted away to Hueco Mundo leaving them high and dry and exposed with nowhere to run. With the utmost secrecy – they had begged for at least that bit of charity, begged! – they were taken down quietly without an elaborate commotion.

Byakuya lost many things on that day. His pride, his home, his status. He would never allow them to catch him and smear his name with something he had no knowledge of. It hurt him, but left no other choice.

He wouldn't say that he fled Seireitei, he just left in order to avoid unnecessary conflict. With only the clothes on his back and his sword firmly at his side, he retreated to the only place he could; Rukongai.

He was moderately aware from the start, the living conditions that he would be facing, but he never imagined it to be this way.

Finding food here was a miracle, and could be called nothing else. He had survived on the minor scrapings that were thrown out, often because in a fight for it, he was unmatched. But he couldn't draw attention to himself and when s hinigami came into Rukongai for various reasons, he always had to keep a low profile- not that those of such low rank ever had a chance of detecting him.

A little raindrop fell and rolled down his cheek. Before he could find the energy to wipe it away, it was followed by a stream of cold droplets, pelting him.

He curled his knees up to his chest and shrunk further into the darkness of the lonely alley. He had long since stop worrying about the state of his clothes, and what various remains he was wallowing in. It was just about soaking what little warmth he could, which was never much to speak of.

This was how all his days were spent, in pitiful mediocrity, a blaring contrast to all he once had. And what he had now. His mind felt numb, as if did whenever he thought about the state his life had become. He stared blankly at the raindrops sending ripples though the puddles at his bare feet and remembered when he never knew pain.

He couldn't recall when the feeling of water rolling down his face stopped, or when a darkness had fallen over him not because of the dark grey clouds covering the sky.

His weary blue eyes looked up into the underside of a red paper parasol and beneath it was a man with the closest thing to a kind smile he'd received since ending up here.

Experience made his face sharp, but not as sharp as his slanted green eyes which Byakuya could feel appraising him despite the warm smile across his admittedly handsome face. He appeared to be just out the freshness of youth, and into a more mature harshness, brown tresses curled around his face and hung loosely from the messy knot at the back of his head.

Still gripped in mild shock, Byakuya could only stare as the man knelt down to be eye level, that dis-arming smile still aimed at him. He snapped out of his daze quickly and readied his hand by his side and on the hilt of his sword.

"You look cold," the man commented, his voice eerily coarse and odd with his somewhat youthful appearance.

"What do you want? I don't have any money if that's what you're looking for." Byakuya had had many experiences with the different forms of scum who would try to steal from anything that moved. He wasn't far himself from becoming one of them. It was obvious he had nothing, but some wouldn't hesitate to steal even the clothes on his back.

"I wouldn't expect you to," he replied. He eyed him up and down, paying special attention to his face. Byakuya's fingers twitched and he moved to draw his sword.

The man stood suddenly, still holding the umbrella over him. "Today is your lucky day. It's decided, come with me."

"I must decline," Byakuya said impassively, not lowering his guard for a moment.

"Eh?" The man looked positively thrilled now. "_You must decline?_ How very elegant of you. I suppose you like sitting in the rain and wallowing in shit then?"

It wasn't a question Byakuya felt a need to respond to. "If that's all the business you have with me, please leave."

"Humph. I don't want hurt you, if that's what you think. There'd be no benefit in that."  
_  
Benefit? What is he getting at?_

"You're about seventeen, right?"The man looked down on him like he was a particularly interesting insect, deviating from the trail of mindless drones toiling away.

It was a bit unsettling and Byakuya couldn't help but feel that this wasn't going to end peacefully.

"No."

"How old are you then?"

No answer.

Blue eyes narrowed in suspicion and locked with green eyes swirling with annoyance. The man sighed without interest and scratched at his exposed chest from his opened kimono.

Calculating eyes, and harsh facial structure aside, he looked like a rather decent man. But Byakuya wasn't about to trust him because he looked respectable. When you let your guard down, fooled by false facades, was when you are most vulnerable for attacks.

He had always known this, but ample amount of time in Rukongai had only reinforced it. Even the most angelic of faces could turn out to harbor evil intent.

He wasn't armed – as far as Byakuya could see – and he was still shielding him from the rain. But that gesture alone wasn't enough of a basis to judge him on.

Byakuya got to his feet and put some distance between them, wondering why he hadn't done it sooner.

A gust of wind collided with the wet fabric plastered to his body making him shiver violently. His hair clung to his face, obscuring some of his vision, but he unsheathed his sword steadily and pointed it at the face now set in a grim expression, mouth drawn in a tight frown.

"You're really serious about this aren't you?"

Byakuya tensed and prepared to strike if the man so much as coughed or looked at him the wrong way. The man, on the other hand, looked quite at ease, calmly standing with the umbrella over himself even though a blade was currently pointed at his chest.

Did he think he would miss?

"You're a fool if you underestimate the sharpness of my blade." An undeniable bluff. He wouldn't hurt anyone un-necessarily and the stranger didn't pose a threat. As yet.

"I don't," he said solemnly, taking step after step.

Byakuya could see him advancing, he could see him slowly but steadily coming closer, but he was overpowered by a sudden wave of nausea that crippled him to the very core and made him sway.

"Oi, you all right?" Another step put him closer, backing the stumbling young Kuchiki heir further into the alley and up against a wall.

"D-Don't come any closer." His head was spinning now, and combined with the light drizzles, gave everything a fuzzy and somewhat surreal misted outline.

His grip was weakening. He could feel his sword slipping from his hand and his feet threatened to buckle beneath him.

"W-Why now of all times!"

"Because you're straining yourself," he replied to Byakuya's question. "When was the last time you ate something?"

"That's a good question," Byakuya replied, panting. If he could at least control his breathing, he could regain momentary usage of his body. His useless arms, quaking legs.

The enemy could attack at any moment. So why hadn't he yet?

"What are you waiting for? Why don't you attack?"

"The answer should be obvious, hell I've been saying it this whole time so get it through your thick head. I don't want to hurt you."

"You don't expect me to believe that, do you?" Byakuya countered.

"It'd be nice if you did," he said with an amused smirk. "It'd save time and energy, now come on."

"I said not to come near me!" Byakuya began swinging wildly. Not a very wise choice of action, but he could hardly calm himself down now. Even with a weapon, this stranger still had the upper hand.

"You're gonna hurt yourself swinging that thing around so wildly!" Ducking and weaving, trying to avoid a potentially dangerous attack, the man reluctantly backed away from him.

Byakuya breathed an inward sigh of relief though his headache was still fluctuating. He might actually have a chance here, at the price of the man thinking he was a raving lunatic.

It happened so fast, or maybe the dullness of his senses didn't give him time to notice when the man moved, as quick as a flash, before his last bit of strength had failed him, and caught him when it did, making sure he never touched the ground.

Clattering loudly, his sword fell from his limp hands, his body slumping against the man who supported his weight, holding him across the mid-section.

"Told ya," he smirked.

Byakuya tried to wriggle to free himself. He would not accept pity nor would he accept the man's apparent charity and his smug expression. Who did he think he was!?

"L- Let go…"

"In this situation-" he adjusted him, putting one of Byakuya's arms over his shoulder and gripping him around the waist, "-I would say that you're not in a position to argue."

They stared each other down; Byakuya's will to deny help blazing, but he was clearly defeated and he knew it. Hell, the malicious smirk coming from his odd helper said that he knew it too.

In the end, the man knelt down and retrieved his sword, and between balancing his weight, carrying his sword and trying to shield them both from the rain with his umbrella, it was a miracle they made it their destination without falling.

He was half carried, half dragged through a series of connected alleys that took him deeper and farther into the depths of Rukongai that he'd never seen before; where sunlight did not seem to reach, and reeked with dankness.

People who had nowhere to go like himself lined the narrow walkway, pressed up against walls and each other, their tattered clothing pulled over their heads to hide their gaunt faces or simply glad for what the sky's blessing provided; a bath, something to quench the thirst, relief.

Byakuya felt a gentle squeeze on his hip as the man steered him to the right and to a fair sized house with a second and third level. Not wasting anytime, he was guided inside where a wave of warmth rolled over him. Everything was still hazy and he couldn't make out the various shapes, but they vaguely resemble people.

"Makoto-sama!"

"Makoto-sama!"

A barrage of voices, loud and demanding, grated on his ears, aggravating his headache.

"Prepare me some tea and a hot meal. Some hot water also. Now!"

"Yes, Makoto-san."

"Hey, stay with me," he commanded, shaking Byakuya to get his attention when he caught a glimpse of his eyes closing. The action didn't sit well with Byakuya's body and he sharply covered his mouth to catch the contents that came flying out.

"Shit."

He was lifted. Actually lifted off the floor, and swept up into the man's arms. His body shook with anger and disgust. He needed his sword! This man would die! How shameless. Had the entire contents of his stomach – which shouldn't have been nothing – not been unceremoniously spouting from his mouth and nose this man would be already dead. To lift him like a female!

He was carried to a room swiftly where he was gently put down onto something soft. He vaguely remembered the feel and sensations of soft things after sleeping on the rough ground for months.

Almost as quickly as he was laid down, something warm was placed on his forehead.  
"Makoto- sama who is this?"

Byakuya could see the stranger leaning over him, prying open his eyes. "Never mind that. Looks like he's suffering from mal-nutrition. Look at how dark under his eyes are."

The man - who was now identified to be Makoto – removed the thing from his forehead and replaced it with another, just a warm. He then took a small cloth, dipped it in the warm water, and wiped Byakuya's mouth.

"What should we do?" It was a different voice that asked the question.

"Will he be alright?"

"Hmm, Makoto- sama really knows how to pick 'em."

"This one might be trouble, if you ask me."

"No one asked you, Hayato," someone said cruelly.

"Bitch."

There was a sound of a door sliding open. "All of you shut the hell up!" A harsh voice commanded. The room became deathly silent and he was sure he felt Makoto's hand waver a little. "Get out."

Footsteps padding away were the only sounds left, not even a whisper from the apparent crowd. The door slid shut, and the owner of the voice approached. "Makoto, what is the meaning of this?"

He was a petite man, wearing a bright red kimono and rouge on his lips and over his eyes.

"Chou-san."

"There's a rumor that there's a new boy pretty enough to rival even Hayato," he started conversationally, sitting beside Byakuya. "Strange though, that you would tend to him yourself and not let one of the boys do it."

"What are you trying to imply?" Makoto paused in his task for the first time to look at the man called Chou.

"I'm just pointing out a fact," he said a little too sweetly.

There was definite tension between them.

Byakuya who had only been a spectator up until then decided he needed some answers. The warmth in the room made him feel immensely better and he tried to sit up, with some difficulty.

"Drink this." Makoto broke the trance between himself and Chou to hand Byakuya a cup of tea. "You should try to rest some more."

Byakuya merely eyed it. "Where am I?"

Chou sneered nastily at Makoto's still out stretched hand. He looked troubled for some reason.

"Get some sleep. We'll discuss it tomorrow."

"We'll discuss it now."

Chou smiled triumphantly. "Quite a feisty one you picked up."

"Shut up."

"How can I? You know he can't spend the night, Ma-chan. That would be inappropriate."

"Why?" Byakuya asked the man called Chou, who seemed to be the only one willing to divulge any information.

"Everyone who sleeps under this roof has to earn their keep. What would the others say if they found out? Favoritism is highly frowned on. It could lead to questions like; Why _you_ and not another?"

Makoto shot Chou an icy glare to which he whole heartedly returned. "Unless, that is what a certain owner had in mind from the beginning."

Makoto finally placed the steaming cup of tea at his feet, hiding his hands within the sleeves of his green and gold kimono and averting his eyes to the window.

Chou smiled. "If you want to stay here, you have to work here," he said quietly, keeping his eyes on the clenching jaw of Makoto.

"What-" Byakuya was about to ask but was cut off when Chou stood abruptly and grinned wildly.

"Welcome to Ecstasy, male escort club. We provide our services to our select _male _patrons."

* * *

TBC


	2. The Black Butterfly

Thank you all so much for your reviews! They make me so happy *yay* glad you guys like it. Chapter two here is more of a character development eh, which I think is always necessary. Chou, Hayato and Makoto are all OC's. My very first in Bleach since I'm a bit weary of them. I prefer to use already established characters but meh. Please tell me what you think. :D.

Kay~

Warnings: Language, Adult situations though vague.  
Word Count:

* * *

Makoto slid open the door to the room that served as his office and also doubled as his sleeping quarters. It was located on the first level of the establishment, which he found puzzling but didn't bother to question it. iEasy access out if anything should happen/i_,_ he figured. He slammed the door shut loudly, which he hadn't entirely meant to do, but every time he thought about what had happened he couldn't help the anger that he felt.

He crossed the distance of the room and sunk into his chair, folding his hands under his chin, eyes falling to the window on the opposite side of the room. Evening had settled with a show of orange and red, though he secretly wished for it to rain. For it was a torrent of rain that had led him where he needed to be months ago to find…

A chill shot up his spine from between his legs, dragging him from his thoughts, and with a grudging sigh only a well known acquaintance of his would ever notice or hear, he relaxed his body. If even just a little.

Two months. It had already been two full months since he last saw him - the boy he'd found on that misty day. He reached across the table for the bottle of sake that he never kept too far; for fear that he would be lost without it.

He was in no way a drunkard, but was it even possible to find a drunkard who would not say the exact same thing?

He poured himself a small serving and sent it tumbling down his throat, relishing in the trail that it burned all the way down. He exhaled noisily and found his eyes drawn to the bed in which the boy had lain, his own, and remembered nights when his own lay in the same spot and felt his skin tingle with that knowledge. All the while shaking his head at the unbelievable audacity that Chou possessed.

Crafty son-of-a-bitch that one. From the very moment the true nature of their little _organization _had left his lips, the boy had fled with energy he could only assume he'd kept in reserve for times like that when men proposed the idea of him selling himself to other men.

Chou's self-satisfied smirk was enough to make him do unthinkable things, or at least, entertain the ideas of them in his head. The risk of trying to carry them out would be too great.

It was exactly the kind of reaction the bastard had been hoping for, a cross between disgust and shock that sent the poor boy fleeing.

What would the bastard have done if he had accepted? He allowed the thought a wry smile. They both knew he wouldn't though. Part of Makoto was glad that he'd had the sense enough to leave, that he wasn't so desperate enough to make a rushed and may be regretted decision. But another part of him had wished that he'd accepted, if only to see more of him.

Chou _knew,_ even Makoto himself knew by the looks of him, that he wasn't some mere street rat. The look in his eyes had spoke volumes; His refusal for help even though he was dying of hunger. He hadn't even eaten the food or accepted the tea, which most would devour without regard or second thought. He had obviously been hungry but he refused it!

It struck Makoto then- or to be honest, even before then – that there was something different about him. He would not be so easily conquered by the likes of them. The burning intensity in those prominent blue eyes all but made him shudder. Even in the disheveled state his meager lifestyle had left him in, he could see a faint radiance beneath.

Makoto wasn't by any means a romantic man. He didn't believe in any of that shit about love and the sort, or so he liked to believe. Look at the business he was in for shit's sake. He didn't have the time, the energy, nor the strength for it. And who could blame him?

So how would he describe his past decisions? The decisions that had led him to this point in his life? If not for the promise of something close enough to be called love, then what? And what would he call the feeling that flooded him when he saw the desolate looking figure, curled in on himself, glowing in the rain?

Realizing that he was being too lax in his sake consumption he tipped the bottle to his head, taking three big mouthfuls. A sharp pain made the liquid almost come rushing back out but he swallowed it quickly and squeezed his thighs ever so subtly, satisfied even when it prompted another jolt.

Leaning back into the comfort of his chair – for his own comfort entirely- he let his hand dangle, the sake bottle nearly grazing the ground while the other was thrown over his eyes. When he did indeed look down, it wasn't hungry brown eyes that he saw, the ones he'd become to loathe, but that of molten sapphire, fierce and yet soft. His breath quickened almost to a pant with a soft, almost indiscernible moan. He would not allow anything else.

He could still see him in his mind's eye, those exquisite eyes, that pale skin, how perfect he would be. How perfect it would be. Heat pooled at the base of his stomach and he shuddered, when he imagined drowning in a sea of sapphire.

When his body had came back down, with little more than a pant that might have suggested he was walking briskly, the sapphire became soiled and muddied and turned back to their shade of brown, and his agitated scowl returned. Another sip of sake for good measure as twilight had already crept in and work hour drew nearer.

"Well, mustn't keep the guests waiting." Licking his lips, Chou crawled out from under the table, dabbing at his mouth and the smudged if barely there lipstick with one of those damn sneers that he was so famous for. Makoto watched him saunter out with disinterest, and for, yet another good measure, took an extra gulp of the soothing drink.

* * *

During the wee hours of the morning, when Makoto and the others were resting, Chou considered this to be the perfect time to slip out un-noticed. It was shit hard to do anything sneaky in that place, what with inquisitive eyes always about, but he'd be dammed if he let that stop him. It was still misty out, the sun barely beginning its assent. Perfect.

He retraced the steps that he knew Makoto took on his usual 'walks'.

The man often claimed that they were 'soothing' and that the shop 'held a stench that had nothing to do with it being dirty, one he couldn't stand at times'- his exact words.

Chou knew better, Makoto might think that he was fooling everyone but in reality he was only fooling himself. He walked around to submerge himself in nostalgia, which was likely to become another addiction- if it already hadn't. Much like his feverently denied 'alcohol addiction'. iA few sips my ass. A few bottles is more like it./i But Chou didn't care what he was addicted to but his hero complex could prove problematic.

He was genuinely surprised when the usually indifferent Makoto actually dragged in another one. That wasn't half as surprising as seeing him tend to him personally. Makoto always picked up something on one of his walks- which was probably half the reason why he went 'walking' in the first place – but he'd drop the person off to let the others handle it in favor of his favorite bottle and a view of his personal backyard garden.

All things aside, the boy had had a certain look to him. To be blunt, he had a face that could drag in customers, once he received the proper training. Makoto had the business sense of a doped pig. Chou, on the other hand, couldn't let this one slip, and this one was indeed slippery.

Two months of searching had yielded nothing. They boy didn't go back to where he was found, he kept moving around. This was why he hated dealing with sensible people. And so sensible he was that Chou knew it would take more than a feeble plight to secure him. So he did some digging and found some very interesting facts.

He had only notified one other person of his outing this morning and said person was currently trailing behind him looking worse-for-wear and kept making sniffing noises and heavy sighs. When he could no longer take it, Chou turned around sharply.

"Shut up, Hayato!"

"Sorrry," he whined, "I had a rough night, I haven't had a chance to ressst. Why tha fuck do we need to out so damn early anyway?"

Chou ground his teeth. Two things he hated dealing with, sensible people, and annoying people, and Hayato definitely fit the bill of the latter. Of all the people that it could have been, why him?

Hayato was one of the first workers there at the shop, and the last remaining one from the original set. He was, in a sense, the face of Ecstasy, the only problem was that he knew it and used it as an excuse to be annoying, demanding and downright vain.

Chou folded his arms and with all the patience he could muster- which sadly wasn't much considering the hour in the morning- and tried to soothe him as much as he could.

"My apologies, Hayato. I also wish that this was avoidable but unfortunately, I need your help."

Hayato's only response was a wide, open mouthed yawn directly in front of Chou's face. Barely restraining the urge to kill him viciously, Chou calmly tucked a lock of navy hair behind his ear.

"You can have the night off. If you succeed that is."

A smile slowly made its way across Hayato's thin face as he asked, "Are you sure you're in a position to be making managerial decisions like that?"

"Look who learned a new word. What's certain, is that you're in no position to be questioning me," Chou said, making sure to emphasize the underlying threat. The smile slipped of Hayato's sleepy face at this, though he didn't look the least bit intimidated.

He stared at him for a while, and Chou thought that he would attack him – or at least try to- and moved his hand into his sleeve just in case. But when Hayato moved, it wasn't to attack him but to smother him in a tight hug.

"What the-" Chou tried to pry him away, not liking the scent that was wafting off him. He should have let him wash away the night at least but he didn't have time.

"Chou-saannnn."

"Get the hell off of me you imbecile!"

"Aww, Chou- san is such a bad sport," he cooed into Chou's hair, being at least a foot taller. Frustrated by now, Chou brought his knee up and caught him right in the crotch, sneering when he blinked back tears and doubled over in pain.

"Fuck. These are sought after items here. Be gentle!"

Chou only flicked his head carelessly and straightened out the wrinkles in his clothing. "If you want to keep them intact keep your stinking hands off me. Now remember what I told you to do. Keep an eye out for his weapon and by no means let him escape. This is important. It'd be nice if he came without us having to haul him."

Hayato straightened, his brows knitted together as he listened intently.

Chou nodded, giving him the assent to get it done. "Is there something wrong?" he asked after several seconds and Hayato nor his serious expression moved.

"Well… "he started.

"Well what?" Chou snapped impatiently.

"Nothing. It's just that…"

Chou's eyebrows disappeared up into his hair. Was he going to refuse or question his motives? He'd be surprised since Hayato never once disobeyed him but he was being vague. The less he knew about it the better. Hayato didn't possess a brain suitable for the art of something as delicate as thinking.

"I just can't help myself from hugging you!" Hayato blurted out and jumped.

He was not so surprised to find himself locked into another killer hug but he didn't waste time in sending the idiot on his way this time with multiple kicks.

Chou hid himself out of sight, and kept track of the scene about to unfold. If all went well.

The boy had chosen a rather scant part of town, or maybe that was where he finally fell, unable to move. He was sitting, head bent, probably passed out from dehydration. Chou hoped not, but it would still be beneficial. They could drag him. If it were up to him, he would incapacitate him and then force him to work.

Nothing personal, just business.

But he remembered someone who he couldn't bear to force him to work. They had negotiated and come to an understanding, but he wasn't in the mood for bargaining.

He watched as Hayato approached the boy with a predatory look on his face, slipping into what he referred to as 'his work face', wiping away his silly expression. If there was anything he could be praised for, it would be his separation of work from play at the time that it was necessary.

He nudged his slumped form with his foot, and Chou suspected from that moment that maybe he had made a mistake.

~o~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O`o`~O~O~O~O~O~

Hayato looked down smugly on the form of the dirty- looking thing he was sent to get. He hated jobs like these. Enormous wastes of his talents, but Chou was Chou and so he didn't have a choice. He didn't have a problem with it, but he wondered why the need for this particular one seemed so crucial. He'd seen better. Like whenever he looked in a mirror for instance.

Business was already good. Why the fuck did they need this little prick. He prodded him again but harsher when he didn't respond. He felt the urge to turn around and shout 'Chou I think he might be dead!' but two things stopped him. The first was the sharp projectiles that would no doubt be launched at his head with deadly intent, and the second was the fact that Chou was keeping himself out of sight, which meant that he didn't want his presence to be known.

He sighed loudly and with an evil smile, raised his foot to kick him in the skull for ignoring him. Just as it was about to make contact, the boy raised his hand to stop it and looked up at him from under the curtain of hair covering his face.

The action caught him off guard but he was quick to recover himself and wrenched his foot free. The boy's hand fell limply at his side. He didn't even have the strength to hold it up so Hayato chalked that little stunt up to reflexes.

"Good, you're awake. Let's get down to business, shall we." He squatted in front of him, not missing how he narrowed his eyes, already suspicious, but his body was entirely limp. If he could feel pity in his already frozen blood he would have thought about letting a little slip through at seeing this sight. But that emotion was in very, very, short supply.

"My boss wants you to work for us, and before you ask the completely retarded question, yes, I do mean at Ecstasy."

The boy made a face which could have been disgust, fury, desperate fear or a combination of all three. Hayato found either idea amusing.

"I…already stated that … I didn't want any part of that." His voice was soft and raspy, barely choked out.

"Oh? iYou stated?/i I thought you had run away with your tail between your ass." He chuckled. "Come on, it's not so bad, and once you get used to it," he paused to smile lewdly, "you'll enjoy it."

"You're a disgrace."

"Maybe…" Hayato replied laughing, but then stopped suddenly. "But I really need you to come with me. Is your answer still gonna be no?" he asked seriously.

A hate filled glare was sent his way, which he translated into his language as 'No fucking way'.

iSighing loudly, he stood up, crossing his arms. "You're gonna come with me whether you like it or not, Kuchiki Byakuya." /i

To his credit, the boy didn't move an inch and there was no indication that he'd even acknowledged the statement. His expression remained the same, save for the slight widening of his eyes, but nothing more. Hayato was eyeing him carefully now, and continued. "But you couldn't be Kuchiki Byakuya right? Because as far as I've heard, that family ain't worth shit now and they're all dead."

Chou would probably scold him, but he decided to do things his own way.

"Well, what have you got to say, Kuchiki bitch." He grabbed a fistful of hair forced his head up. He was getting sick of his emotionless face.

"I do n-not know of whom y-you speak."

Hayato scoffed. "Man, you can still talk that fancy shit even though you're like this? And you call me a _disgrace_. Then how would you describe yourself. A fallen noble who still clings to his over-rated ways."

Hayato spat in his face and pushed his head away roughly. "What is your answer?!"

Out of his peripheral vision Hayato spotted his fingers moving along the dirt and the sword lying not far away. iKeep an eye out for his weapon,/i Chou's words rang in his head, and he hastily stepped on the fingers though he doubted the poor Kuchiki could do anything in his state. He was barely keeping his eyes open.

Why the hell couldn't they just drag him off? Why all this crap? But Chou's orders very clear.

"What's your point?"

"I will never…" he started, but was cut off when the foot ground his fingers into the dirt. He winced but made no sound. And suddenly, Hayato wanted to make the bastard scream. iHmpf./i

"You will. Because I think that you are _indeed_ the rich brat with the worthless family, and I know you wouldn't like it too much if shinigami came poking around. They don't know you're here do they? I bet if I put a bounty on your lovely little head that'd catch the attention of many. Bounty hunters, people who need money, want it, or just like it. And that would surely pique the interest of certain shinigami bastards."

Hayato took him by surprise, delivering a swift kick to the ribs that sent him flying a few feet. Before he had time to recover Hayato was there, kicking him wildly, any part of his body that he could reach. "You are nothing. You have nothing. No food, no family, no one to return to. No home, no one that cares about you. No hope. You're as good as shit here my friend. Realise it!" More blows were delivered, and when he shielded his head with his bleeding hands, Hayato just stomped on them, but just to be humane, he purposely avoided his face. Business purposes of course. He could relate to that.

"Well rich boy, fight me! Prove me wrong!" he yelled, magenta hair that was always frighteningly in place flying all over, his calm blue eyes wide and manic, raging like a fierce ocean. Something clicked in his head, he was getting carried away. He stopped mid-kick and smoothed back his hair with some normality.

He hoisted his battered body up, which was shockingly easy to do, by the front of his bloody yukata, and pinned him to the wall. He was about ready to end this, and plus he could feel Chou's disapproving glare melting away his skin.

"Work for the boss and you'd have food, shelter and hell, we could even throw in a commission. You've got nothing to lose. Stay here, die, come with us, live. Of course those aren't your options. It's more like come with us or die really. You realize I'm not asking, but I will for the sake of it all. _What is your answer_?"

Byakuya refused to make eye contact. Blood was trailing down his face, clumping his hair together, and bruises marred his skin. Even with all the bruises and dirty hair covering his face, Hayato could still see the forming of water in his eyes and a nod so barely visible that he almost missed it. He smirked. It would be as close to 'ok, I will' as he was going get and he accepted it with a sense of misplaced pride. He had made him give in. He had moved an un-movable boulder.

He released him and let him slide down, unable to stand on his own. He held him by the elbow and dragged him, when his weak knees couldn't keep up with the walking. _Not bad for a morning's work._  
The sun's rays were only now reaching them though it had nothing to do with the heat currently burning a hole in his back.

* * *

_It was dark. Cold and dark. The feet of passing people. Ignoring him like the dirt itself. He was invisible to them. To everyone. But he wanted to be, and still didn't want to be. He wanted to be left alone, but not completely._

_He wanted to be seen._

_And then he was, so suddenly._

_She was the first woman to hold out a hand to him, and shower him with the kindness in her hazel eyes. He gladly took her hand and walked. But always in her shadow._

_Forever._

_Full moon. Fireflies. Paper lanterns strung up, casting warm hazy light._

_On the small bridge over the pond stood a tall figure. Beautiful lilac and pink kimono, sliding over smooth skin, joined quickly by his lips, pressing kisses down the slender neck and collar bone. Tentative hands kneaded the skin on his hip, sending the heat rushing down adding fuel to the fire already there. Their eyes met. And then… there was…  
_

Sunlight.

Bright and blinding and definitely not the dimness of night.

Makoto opened his eyes and sat up feebly, resting his elbow on his knee.

Dreams could be so strange sometimes. He shook his head but t he reaction it caused on his body still lingered, he noticed, when he looked down. He swallowed thickly and then heard, "Ahem" from the corner of his room.

If he was surprised, he didn't show it. Only one person could enter his room at will.

"I hope _that_ has something to do with me," he gestured with his chin, smiling wickedly.

Makoto closed the nemaki to cover himself appropriately. "Why are you here?"

Chou, still smiling, with a quirked eyebrow, allowed the question to linger for a minute or so before saying, "Something was brought, for you, _Ma-chan_."

Makoto was puzzled really, something wasn't right; Chou looked more smug than normal.

"Something like what?"

Chou sighed. "Something like _that_," he drawled. Another head gesture directed Makoto's attention to his office desk and the kneeling bundle in front of it.

"What the-" he spluttered, eyes impossibly wide and inched back a little more onto his futon.

Being so close to the object of his thoughts and dreams so suddenly took his breath away but when his eyes finally came to terms with what they were seeing, his jaw dropped open.

Chou remained quiet. He knew Makoto was livid. He'd told that idiot Hayato to convince him not beat him half to death. Incompetent and brute as always. His pride wouldn't allow him to feel guilty even though Makoto was currently searing off his face with a nasty glare, so he kept his expression bland.

"What happened to him?" Makoto was clearly restraining himself, tucking away his anger so his voice was only slightly nipped.

"Hayato," Chou called, and the precisely placed Hayato entered. "Please take him to another room and see that he is _cleaned up_."

Hayato nodded and helped him to his feet, escorting him out. Makoto caught the way he deliberately squeezed a bruise on his arm as he was leading him out.

No sooner than they were outside and the door was slid shut, Makoto bounded on Chou, fisting the front of his robes and looking murderous.

"What happened to him?"

Chou didn't know how to respond to this. He'd never seen Makoto this way before and he'd never handled him this way. "I-I found him like that, Ma-ch-"

"Do not lie to me! Why did you bring him here?!" he demanded.

Chou had seen Makoto cross before. He had witness him deal with those who ill- treated the charges – something Makoto did not tolerate under any circumstances- but he never thought that he'd be on the receiving end of one of his brutal outbursts.

"I thought you'd be happy."

"Fuck you! Do not lie to me, Chou!" His hand tightened, one the verge of doing something he may well regret but not caring.

"Watch your mouth, Ma-chan," Chou warned, and looked pointedly at the hands gripping him. Makoto pushed him away and curled his fingers. He paced up and down, his index finger on his temple. Chou smoothed out the front of his red and black kimono where Makoto had ruffled it. The taller man stopped pacing and faced him, a harsh scowl disrupting his attractive features. Emerald eyes hardened, lips in a tight frown.

"Dammit Chou! Don't do things without my permission. I am the one in charge here!"

Chou wrapped his fingers around a kettle on the table next to him and poured himself some tea. "Indeed. To the inquisitive ears and curious eyes, _you_ are the one in charge here."

He locked eyes with him, challenging him, and was satisfied when he wavered and swallowed. "You shouldn't have," he said softly, shoulders slumped in defeat.

Chou took a sip of his tea and closed his eyes. "Such is life, my dear Ma-chan. You know as well as I do the harshness of life. I'd like to think I did the poor thing a favor considering-"  
_  
SLAM!_

The door slammed shut, cutting him off mid sentence. Makoto was gone.

Hands balled into fists and utterly furious, Makoto stomped his way down the narrow hallway.

If he'd known today would have been like this he would've just stayed in bed. And after such a nice dream too.

Why did things have to turn out like this?

He peeked in room after room on the second floor. Everyone was either asleep or resting; there was hardly any noise, which made it strange that Chou's bitch Hayato was awake- not being an early riser. But maybe Makoto was trying to give his mind something to focus on instead of his anger, because the answer was obvious.

A door was slightly ajar and he took a quick glance inside. That was where he found him, sitting in the middle of the room with his back to the door. There was a pail of hot water but no one else was inside. He could just imagine Hayato's face when he dropped him in here and with a wicked smile suggested he fend for himself.

Makoto bit on his lower lip and stepped inside, closing the door behind him. So close… he was so close to him again…

He moved around to see his face. _Shit_. _What have they done to him?_ Luckily, his face hadn't sustained much damage, but his poor thing.

Makoto exhaled and with a trembling hand, touched his shoulder to slide his clothes off. He hesitated just a little, expecting some form of resistance from the battered boy. There was none. Slowly he slid the material from his shoulders and then lifted him to let it slide off and pool at his feet.

Turning his head and trying not to appear flustered, he lowered him into the water slowly, watching his face change and soften with relief.

Taking a cloth, he wiped gingerly at his face, feeling his stomach wrench painfully when the young boy winced_. How much pain is he in?_

Makoto could only imagine and he really didn't want to. He traced a finger down his face and let his gaze fall to his eyes. Those beautiful eyes that would not look at him and blazed with defiance, even now.

* * *

TBC~


	3. Daimiki

Chapter three guys! Sorry for the lateness, I had a setback. Expect weekly updates on Fridays though as an apology for being so late, Chapter four will be up by Wednesday. :D Thank you so much for all the reviews and all the love! It makes me so happy to know that you guys enjoy this XD. The last chapter title, 'The Black Butterfly' was named after Chou which means butterfly in Japanese. Enjoy!

Chapter three: Daimiki  
Word Count: 3174  
Un-betaed

* * *

A silence as stiff as death hung in the air, breeding and accentuating the palpable tension, which had grown in past weeks. Chou buzzed around wordlessly, wiping down surfaces with deliberately slow movements, pausing to glance at Makoto with each new task.

Out of the corner of his eye, Makoto watched him fold every article of his clothing but said nothing. Chou's face was twisted in a frown, much was Makoto's.

Many days they had spent in this terrible silence, filled with things unsaid, and caused by the things that were.

Not known for his patience, Chou had quickly become tired of the hostility, and tried - unsuccessfully- to make peace many times. But Makoto felt no need to reconcile, he held on to his anger and if he did speak to him, the words were few and short and only answered to something he was asked.

Chou could care less about Makoto's attitude. He did what needed to be done, and even if he was hated for it, Makoto would come to terms with it sooner or later.

He always did.

Chou rolled up his sleeves and started on polishing the floor. He needed tasks to keep his body moving or else his eyes would wonder over to the man and be pulled there. He also needed things to keep his mind busy, left un-occupied it would only conjure up images of their past encounters.

The last thing he wanted to do was make him feel like he had the upper hand. Because he didn't. He finished sooner than expected and cast around for something else to clean or wipe excessively or shine into oblivion. There was nothing, and so he sat, slowly facing the man, bent on staring relentlessly. If there was one thing he knew about the younger, it was that being constantly stared at made him nervous.

Makoto glanced at him furtively and brought his sake bottle to his lips while watching the flowers sway in the breeze outside. Chou's brow twitched in frustration, wanting nothing more that to take the stupid thing and empty its contents to better fertilize the grass right in front of Makoto's face. He restrained himself well, it wouldn't be in his best interest to do such a drastic thing after walking on eggshells so long.

After several minutes, he noticed that the staring tactic wasn't working. Had Makoto somehow become stronger without him noticing? No. Impossible. Look at his behavior. He proved that he was still a weak child. Sulking over something like this.

So much so that the sight of his lonely eyes made Chou on occasion want to embrace him, that is, when he wasn't guarding the Kuchiki boy's door from who knows what.

A boy protecting his new toy.

Chou wondered how much time it would take before he tired of it and discarded it for his favorite. Even if he did consider himself the _favorite_, it did him little good. Would the favorite be left unattended for so long? Would the favorite have to endure cold nights with nothing to warm him?

Makoto wouldn't even so much as look him in the eye, and it was becoming difficult to hide the hurt from his face.

A butterfly gently landed on a flower, wings flapping hypnotically, catching both their gazes. Chou's distracted one and Makoto's intent one. When Makoto frowned at it, was when Chou decided he'd had enough.

"Ma-chan?" he whispered sweetly, keeping his voice devoid of anything.

Makoto took another sip and this time directed his gaze to the blue sky, pointedly ignoring him.

"How long are you planning to keep this up?" he asked calmly. Receiving a side-long glare in response he felt his patience shrivel. "You can't ignore me forever!" His hands clenched on his lap.

"Ma-chan…" His voice dropped to an almost plea, and though it had been a slip, Makoto finally looked at him. His heart squeezed and this time he wasn't afraid to let some of what he was feeling, his genuine approach, show. If it would get Makoto to talk to him again then it was necessary.

When he spoke it was only one sentence, but his features softened considerably. "I don't understand you." It was followed by a heavy sigh and a shake of his head, but Chou knew that it was a respite and that things could be mended from here.

The need to touch him burned his body, but he wasn't foolish enough to think that he would be granted permission so easily.

He easily slipped back into himself and kept his face blank even though his insides were alight with joy.

Makoto was torn, as if both of his hands were being pulled in opposite directions.

Chou was undeniably smart and to the same degree, cunning. There was nothing he would not resort to, to get what he wanted. What he called 'life' was just his way of being cruel to people, justifying it as the harshness of 'life'.

Makoto knew that there was more to what he was telling him, but if he was ever going to find out, he would have to find a way to look at him without wanting to kill him first.

Though these past weeks had been tolerable with Chou not daring to broach him for fear of an outburst. He'd gotten time to himself, not to mention to keep his clothes on, which was always a good thing.

With their new found agreement, Chou padded across his room to pour himself some of that disgusting stuff he liked to drink.

Chou poured a second cup and placed it on the opposite side of the table. An invitation. Obediently, Makoto sat but didn't touch it.

"Don't be that way, its only tea," Chou chided playfully.

Makoto didn't waste time, jumping right into what was on his mind. "How'd you do it?"

Chou raised his eyebrows in question. "Hmm? Do what, drink tea?"

"How did you get him to agree?"

"What makes you think he agreed? I could have just dragged him here."

"You didn't."

Chou set his cup down. "Truth is, it's an interesting story."

"Eh? Do tell." Makoto pushed the cup away from himself, just the aroma making him feel sick.

Chou looked affronted but made no comment about it. "I found out some things about him," he said, letting his voice take on a mysterious air.

"Like?"

"Like, he's the last member of the once famous Kuchiki clan."

It was Makoto's turn to be shocked. "K-Kuchiki."

Chou nodded gravely. "None other."  
_  
No wonder._ "Royalty..." he said thoughtfully, more to himself than to Chou.

"Hardly."Chou snorted but passed it off as a cough when he caught Makoto's annoyed glare.

"So it was a healthy dose of blackmail then." Makoto didn't know if to feel better or worse at this news. It explained a lot. His hesitancy, his pride. But it didn't change a thing in his mind; he still didn't want him working here, and if possible, his resolve was firmer now.

He gave him a room and he knew he'd be in some level of trouble when everyone saw. It was troublesome and frustrating. He was in a position of power and yet he couldn't do something as drastic as putting him as a class three so soon even though that would ensure his safety for a while.

"Oh come now, don't be so dramatic. I saved him and he came here isn't he?" Chou said, a little annoyed by the accusation though it was in a way true. It was a hand he'd rather not played, but it couldn't be avoided.

"He is not in_ this place _by choice!" And Makoto was shouting again, slamming his fist down and rattling the cup of untouched tea.

"You keep saying _this place_ as if it's somewhere bad. You're here too, Ma-chan."

"Yes, but lest you forget-" He looked away and added softly "I'm not here by choice either."

"Would you rather go back to how you were before?"

Chou found that he did not feel as much satisfaction when the man's shoulder drooped and his eyes took on a haunted look. "N-No."

"Then I don't think he would either," said Chou softly, setting down his cup and pushing it away. Somehow, he no longer had the stomach for tea.

* * *

The room was by no means small. In fact, it was fairly large and abundant in windows as it seemed to be at a corner. The furniture- he could tell by looking- was exquisite taste. Rich dark woods- a desk and chair in the corner by a window. Another low table sat in the middle of the room with two red cushions at opposite sides, beneath it, a large cherry-blossom printed rug. Large wall fans and framed pictures of Kimono clad men with painted faces hung from the walls. Byakuya tried not to let his eyes linger there too long. A bookshelf made of the same dark wood was positioned near the door and on the far side of the room, his futon flanked by two lamps and surrounded by the hanging sheer canopy. The colors were very much his taste; red, black and white.

Whoever had done this was meticulous. He had been transferred to this room only yesterday and could admit - though grudgingly- that he preferred it to the other smaller, sparse one. At least this one showed some signs of life.

If he closed his eyes, he could almost pretend to be back at his own home, in his own room, but the time would inevitably come, when he would have to open them again and face his harsh reality. That he was not in fact at home, but in a whore house where he would be assaulted with dreadful noises every night. Self- delusion would get him nowhere. Instead, he focused on thinking about his situation and conversely, a way out of it.

A dull throb still pained his ribs but it had been worse so he was thankful that it had lessened. What in the world could he do to escape? He was basically a prisoner, but was it not his own doing? He turned his head to look out the nearest window, bright sunlight streaming in and washing over him.

Taking a deep breath and stiffening as there was a knock on the door, Byakuya continued to look outside, but said "Enter".

He wasn't too surprised to see the tall figure that slinked in and closed the door. He'd been seeing him over the past long weeks and as always he was followed by the other man he came to know as Chou.

With a smile and a wave of his hand, Makoto approached him. "Yo."

Byakuya inclined his head in greeting. "Takahashi- san."

Takahashi Makoto. The owner of this little establishment and his overall caregiver. Unusual as it seemed, he received visits from him every single day, but then again, this was the _boss_ that gave him his ultimatum and sent his thug to recruit him. And who might also be blackmailing him. But Byakuya was unarmed and considered himself lucky that they were still asking his consent for things and treating him like a guest.

"Is the room to your liking?' Makoto asked, looking around with awe and un-mistakable pride.

Byakuya nodded and he set down a tray with a cup of tea by his side.

"I'm glad. I was worried you wouldn't like it. Here, I brought this for you."

"Thank you," Byakuya replied with another nod, accepting the cup of tea Makoto had presented him and taking a sip. The blend was very appealing. He would've guessed that the finer art of tea making would be lost on people like these.

"How are you feeling?" Chou spoke for the first time since entering. He'd taken a seat in the corner under a window, looking around with a mix of distaste and irritation that he apparently wasn't doing a very good job at hiding.

"I'm-"

Makoto coughed loudly which cause both men to stare at him in confusion.

"Kuchiki-san?" Chou called over his shoulder, recovering first and determined not to let Makoto interfere.

Makoto looked at Byakuya swiftly and made some motions with his face that Byakuya couldn't understand so he dismissed it.

"I'm doing w-" Before he could finish Makoto's elbow collided painfully with his ribs causing him to grunt in mild discomfort. He hadn't even seen when the man had moved his hand.

"Are you all right?" Makoto leaned in close to him, hiding his face from Chou's view and gave Byakuya the tiniest shake of his head.

"As you can see, Chou, he is still n-" A geta colliding with his face cut off whatever he was going to say.

"Why the hell'd you do that for bastard!" Makoto rubbed his forehead. That would leave a mark!

"I SAW THAT!" Chou bellowed, bare foot still held out in kicking position and huffing.

As if now remembering Byakuya's presence, Makoto, who was a little red in the face, turned away to compose himself. He then turned to face Byakuya again and asked, "M-May I tend to your hands?"

He looked about as nervous as he sounded, and even with his back to Chou, he skillfully avoided the second geta that came flying at his skull. Thankfully too, because it was aimed to kill.

Byakuya still had his reservations about these two but co-operation was key now, especially since he was given a choice. He obediently held out his hands.

Every one of his fingers was bandaged, and every time Makoto tended to them, he would sober instantly when he saw them. Makoto examined them and then his face, as if searching for something. The young Kuchiki disliked when he scrutinized him so, and often found it hard to maintain eye contact.

Byakuya looked away, sure it was his imagination when he heard the words, "I'm so sorry," whispered from his captor, but the way he handled him, almost as if he were a fragile object, was not his imagination. Or was it? It was on his orders that this was done to him in the first place.

Makoto gently lifted each long finger and inspected them, removing the wrappings and exposing the red pigmented skin that were once scratches and scrapes. "I imagine you like to paint?" he asked wistfully.

The question took Byakuya by surprise. He nodded again. Makoto smiled, absently brushing his fingers along the tips Byakuya's own. "It would suit you. Such delicate hands."

Byakuya wasn't sure how to respond, a strange feeling was clawing its way up his chest and he was unsure about how to interpret it. Politeness kept him from wrenching his hands away.

"What else do you like?" asked Makoto with something akin to curiosity making his eyes glow. It was a sign of how much time had passed that the man felt comfortable enough to ask him questions. At first, he would merely greet him and tend to him, and as the days turned to weeks he ventured a question or two. But nothing so personal.

Byakuya opened his mouth -to answer? – when Chou cleared his throat.

"In any case, Kuchiki –san, you've been here a total of three weeks and some, living free off other's hard work and sacrifices. How long do you plan to do this?" he said saccharinely.

The bluntness of the question was like a smack across the face, and bothered Byakuya more than shocked him, but he was expecting this conversation from the moment he was brought here. The entire left side of Makoto's face twitched, unconsciously squeezing Byakuya's hand, only letting go when he winced, patting them in silent request for forgiveness.

Byakuya eyed Chou, who hadn't taken his eyes off him, waiting for his no doubt well calculated answer.

Byakuya knew that he had only allowed himself to be brought here because it was what the situation had called for. He was in no condition to fight and if he'd denied, it would only have result in his death or being dragged here. So while his body was still intact, he'd agreed. Another grate at the shattering pieces of his pride.

He would have to be tactful if he wanted to escape. Wait for the opportune moment and then take it in one swift strike.

But there was still the matter of his identity, if the shinigami were contacted, and if a bounty were to be placed on his head. It would only make it troublesome for him to hide. And without provisions and shelter, how long would he last this time? If they even had a general idea of where he might be, they would start from there and spread out, wasting no time in finding him.

He had no way to protect himself. He would surely be found. His hands were literally tied. He had no choice but to do what _this _situation called for in order for him to survive.

"It only seems fair that I… repay my debt." Even as he said it, with only the intention of satiating the man asking, he could admit that he felt a sliver of trepidation at these words.

"I knew you would see it our way. You can start tonight then."

Makoto finally let Byakuya's hands drop and stood to look at Chou who smiled and covered the lower half of his face with his sleeve. "There's been dangerous talk Ma- chan. We wouldn't' want to lose several for the sake of one."

They stared at each other for a long time._ A power struggle? _Byakuya thought.

He couldn't see Makoto's face as he spoke next. "Understood. He will start as a class one. That would be appropriate, I think."

Chou faltered a bit and grunted.

"I will prepare him."

"There's no need for that, Ma- chan, I'll do it. Besides, I'm better suited for it."

"I said I-"

"I'm sure you have more important things to do than lounging around with the workers isn't there," Chou interrupted in a tone above his that could have easily been an order.

There was a tense moment before Makoto turned to leave, muttering, "Of course."

Chou then resumed speaking to Byakuya, rising and padding over to him. "Now that that's settled. We'll have to find a name or you, for obvious reasons."

"I already have one," Makoto said form the door, making both men turn to look at him.

"Daimiki, is what he will be called from now on," he amended with a glance at Byakuya, sliding the door shut.

_______________

Daimiki means Great beautiful noble in Japanese 


	4. Promotion

**Promotion**

**5:30. Sleepy like a dog. Apologize for the lateness and the no doubt barrel full of mistakes. Appreciates the love and reviews. :3 Thank you.**

**Weekly Tid-bit : Makoto, Chou and Hayato are my first three Bleach OC's. Usually the word OC makes me cringe. I like already established chars. Less work of development but I chose the OC route for this. Hope it wasn't a mistake.**

* * *

Chou ground his teeth.

Makoto possessed the innate talent for rubbing him the wrong way and surprisingly so because he wasn't overly sensible or annoying. He just seemed to want to clash heads with Chou's opinions every possible time an occasion presented itself.

And always slamming things! Shoji doors didn't put themselves on! They cost money. Makoto and his explosions made them spend more money than he earned the shop with his soft ways.

Just look at this room!

You would think they were at some kind of palace the way this thing was decorated. Not even Chou's room was so nice. Hell, not Even Makoto's room was this nice. He put this much effort into doing something like this for the Kuchiki while he slept in a cave and Chou in a miniature one that was barely spruced up with his own touches to make it feel homely?

This had obviously come out of Makoto's personal stash. Chou had wondered what he did with all the money he earned. He didn't buy a thing except for sake and a new kimono when he felt like indulging.

Chou would call him a cheapskate if he didn't know the real reason was that Makoto probably didn't know what to do with it. Not being a man accustomed to money and the freedom it brought, he simply put it away until he could find a use for it. And the only thing that that came to his mind - a simple thought really – was to shower it on someone else. A selfless thought.

He swallowed the bitter taste in his mouth. He was not that someone.

The afternoon sun was already casting shadows. Night was drawing closer.

With a huge grin he hoped was friendly enough, Chou beckoned Byakuya over to his new fancy little bureau and examined one of the many ornate brushes that were laid out there. Pretty things they were.

Where had Makoto acquired such things?

Chou started brushing his hair with long strokes, taking delight in knowing he was denying Makoto this little pleasure. He, unlike Chou, didn't have the gift of concealing himself. He wore his heart on his sleeve, where it could be seen by all, and therefore exploited.

What was it about this person that he found so riveting anyway? He was handsome, yes, but could he even hold a candle to Hayato? (He was basically contradicting himself. He'd brought him here because he thought he could, but he ignored that little fact for his own self –satisfaction). Chou wasn't very fond of self-righteous voices either, so he silenced the one in his head that kept insisting he deserved what he was getting; whispering that he was the one who brought him back, and Makoto had nothing to do with it.

But that aside, the boy wasn't anything extraordinary. He rarely spoke and even though he was polite, it always felt somewhat cold. Like his polite behavior was only natural, embedded in him from his first breath, something that he had no control over it. And if he hadn't had the proper training, he would have already told them off with every foul word imaginable. So it was only natural that with his surly disposition, Chou had concerns about his ability to be a host.

A class one at least needed to be jovial and warm. They had to be able to strike up conversation when the moment arrived. That was after all, the main function of their job. He shrugged. _Oh well, his looks will make up for what he lacks.  
_  
Chou examined his handiwork in the mirror, and with one last brush of his silky tresses, gathered it some to the top of his head in a knot held in place by a gold fastener, and let the rest cascade down his back. He set some loose to fall into his face, just to soften it a bit.

"There we go. Perfect," he said with a smile at how easily Byakuya slid back into the comfort of being pampered.

Chou poured Byakuya a fresh cup of tea, and when he sat at the table with him, he asked, "Do you have any questions? I'm sure there's a lot you want to know."

He didn't really expect the Kuchiki to have questions. He was sure the boy desired no less than to kill them all slowly, but tolerated them because there was no other choice. At the moment.

He did in fact have a question.

"What exactly does a _class one _do?"

A logical question. Chou took a sip of his tea and tried not to grimace. Awful. Figures it was a bad idea to let a man who hated tea prepare it. The flavor was too subtle.

"There are three levels of workers here," he began. "A class one is the basic host, for those who aren't blessed aesthetically, those who want a _mild _setting, or those who are just starting out, like you. They serve the customers and make friendly conversation while others entertain -which reminds me, do you have any _special skills_?"

He made sure to emphasize the two words to make sure Byakuya knew he wasn't talking about things like painting.

He caught on quickly and asked, "In reference to _what_?"

"Parlor tricks. Some sing, some dance, some…"

"No, I do not possess any skills of that kind."

Chou sighed and shook his head. What a mechanical tone of voice he had and his face didn't change when he talked!

"Well it wouldn't hurt to learn something. Maybe you'd like me to ask someone to teach you?"

The look on his face said it, the way his brow furrowed, but he voiced it anyway. "That is not necessary."

_I thought as much_. "Uh… okay then. Well… think of a class one as a waiter in a restaurant."

Byakuya very, very, slightly, nodded.

"Class two, " Chou paused here to choose his words wisely, the least he could do was sugar coat it to make it easier to swallow. "-Pleasures the guests."

To his credit, he didn't flinch, cringe or show his disgust.

Taking this as an incentive, Chou continued.

"As a class two, you can be chosen by any customer. If you are well sought after, then you reach the highest promotion and move to a class three. A class three has many privileges. You will only be chosen by a select group of patrons, who are approved, meet the requirements and who can afford you. And you will come at a high price. You then have the freedom to refuse them but you still have a quota to fill so don't think you can refuse them all. How much money you make, secures your rank and how you are treated. In short, how you live here depends on how much money you make."

Kuchiki was staring hard at the steaming cup in front of him, hands folded neatly in his lap. Chou wondered if he understood or just blanked out what he had said. He had been a bit long- winded.

"And what class are you?" he asked after a hefty silence.

"I'm a class three… and I have one patron of my choosing." Chou answered truthfully but didn't like where the conversation was going so he steered it away. "We open for business at night and rest during the day. Class three's can have visits from their patrons during the day if they so wish. They may also leave for visits outside for personal reasons. Only class threes receive payment. Half of what they earn. If-"

There was a loud series of knocks outside the door, attracting both their attentions.

"Yes?"

Sliding open the shoji door was a small faced boy who bowed his head, pushing forward a parcel in his hands. "Courtesy of Makoto –sama."

Another gift!? How ridiculous. Chou frowned but took it.

Unfolding it, he held it out at arm's length. A new kimono. Spring blue, deepening purple at the bottom and ripples of white flowers.

He looked back to find Kuchiki only watching him from the corner of his eye.

"You should be more grateful. This cost Ma-chan a lot of money. He's a very generous man."

Byakuya coldly averted his eyes. After a venomous glare, of course. All Chou could do was to sigh again, entertaining visions of how nice this Kimono would look on him and the many ways he would show his gratitude.

* * *

Byakuya had never left his room the entire time he was there, save for when he first arrived and when he switched rooms. The shop at night was a different affair from the shop in the day, he observed.

As soon as he stepped out of his door, he felt as if in another world. Red paper had been slipped in floor lamps that lined the hallway and each door had two lamps flanking it. It made everything eerie and surreal. At the end of the corridor, there laid a staircase leading upwards. He could already hear the footfalls of people walking above.

No later than when twilight had set in and the few stars appeared above, Chou came to fetch him. He'd offered to help him dress, which Byakuya declined. The state of his hands incapacitating, he still managed.

"Ready?" he'd asked, after a grueling ten minutes, looking him over and sizing him up as if expecting him to be untidy or half dressed. In any case, Byakuya could have sworn he caught a disapproving look when Chou saw just how tightly he had his kimono wrapped around himself, revealing little to none of himself.

"Wouldn't hurt you to show a little more skin you know."

_I think it would_ was what Byakuya thought but didn't say for Chou also had his clothing tightly clinging to his body, exposing absolutely nothing.

Walking directly behind him and actually standing in his presence, Byakuya truly noticed how small the man was. He barely scrapped Byakuya's shoulder and his petite frame could almost be feminine. He was again dressed in a red kimono, patterns of dark branches reaching across, and his azure hair just brushing below his ears.

He was led down a set of stairs, catching glimpses of the people scurrying below. They emerged down into a small room and through its door Byakuya could see the main area.  
In front of him, Chou stopped, so he also halted. A group of young males quickly stopped what they were doing to throw themselves on the floor to bow in front of Chou.

Chou received great pleasure from this.

"You may raise your heads. I have someone I would like to introduce."

As if reluctantly, they one by one looked up at them with varying reactions. One thing that jumped right to the forefront was their exotic looks. Each of them had unique attributes that would set them apart from others. From the unusual shades of their hair, to their eyes, and even right down to their skin.

"I'd like you to welcome K –Daimiki -san, the newest member of our little family," said Chou, turning to look at him with a little tremble. It was impossible for him to fabricate anything resembling a friendly gesture, so he didn't, to which Chou frowned and steered him around them, calling over his shoulder, "Okay, get to work!"

"Why do they bow to you? Takahashi-san is in charge," he asked, not caring that they weren't out of earshot and several eyes were glued to his back.

"They're class ones and twos. I'm a three so that makes me their superior. I told you, class determines how you are treated. That's something you should know well."

In the main area, there was a buzz of conversation and laughter and a lingering smell Byakuya couldn't pin-point the origin of. He doubted he could even if the layer of smoke hovering above them was gone. Additional lamps and added paper lanterns splayed more of the dizzying red light.

"Hmm, looks like a full house, excellent night to make your debut, Daimiki –san," Chou tip-toed up to whisper in his ear.

Indeed the space was packed to capacity; every table contained a drunken man, surrounded by exotic boys engaging them in mindless conversation while inebriating them to the point of madness.

Surely he couldn't be expected to do the same.

An elevated part of the ground- just next to the entrance to the back room where he was standing- was acting as a stage, and being utilized by two scantily clad men making use of poles rooted to the ground and stretching to the ceiling in motions they would probably consider dancing.

A separated area on the opposite side which held limitless flasks of alcohol was pointed out to him as where he would refill.

"Good luck!" Chou said, shoving a warm sake bottle and sakazuki into his hand, his eyes turned up with laughter.

* * *

No more than a half of an hour later, Chou was pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. Keeping out of sight in a dark corner, he thought it was best to keep an eye on the Kuchiki for a while. He still wasn't sure if it was a good idea –to keep an eye on him, that is. A headache was coming because of what he was seeing.

"How's it going?" an all too cheery voice asked from behind him. Makoto threw his arms casually over Chou's shoulders and rested his chin in the man's mess of azure hair.

"Not well," he replied, his irritation forgotten for a minute and replaced with a warmth at Makoto's simple gesture. It would be meaningless to the other party but it wasn't to him.

Makoto laughed, sending the vibrations through him. Byakuya was sitting rigidly, hands clasped in his lap next to a very frightened looking man who didn't even touch the sake bottle in front of him for fear of a painful death from the daggers Byakuya were shooting. They were quiet. Very quiet.

"You're enjoying this aren't you?"

Makoto Laughed again. "_That_ shouldn't be any bit surprising Chou –_chan, _considering that's how he always is."

"This isn't funny Ma-chan. Do you have any idea how bad this is for business."

"Oh, I think I do," Makoto said, standing straight and stretching his arms upward.

"Where are you going?!"

"Surely, you don't expect me to help do you. I have work to do but have fun!" Makoto said already halfway up the stairs and waving.

Makoto was obviously ecstatic about this but Chou was seething! Kuchiki- san had potential but it would never be realized if things continued like this.

So, sauntering up the two flights of stairs, he stopped at the third door. He slid open the door, not bothering to knock.

Inside Hayato was checking his reflection in a full length mirror, adjusting the sleeves of his sky blue kimono.

He spotted Chou in the mirror and turned around, smiling broadly. "Well looky looky what we have here. Considering adding me to your clientele?"

It was a spur of the moment kind of decision that brought him here to this man, seeking something he was not likely to get. It was not too late to turn back. Chou watched the rising smoke from burning incense coiling upwards, milling over what he was going to say in his head.

"As if. And you should only light those things when your guests arrive," Chou warned. It was a good idea to keep an eye on those things.

"Ahh but you see I had a premonition you would visit me so I lit it especially for you." He teased a lock of his magenta hair, curling it around his finger and then letting it fall into his eyes. Stepping in front of Chou, he ghosted a finger tip over his cheek. "But I doubt that's what you came here to say so, what can I do for you tonight, little Chou?"

Chou ignored the silly pet name that he normally would not. "I'd like to ask a favor of you."

"And what might this favor entail?" he asked silkily.

Chou braced himself. Hayato was in a favorable mood but still….

"Byakuya-san is new and he doesn't know the ropes-"

It didn't even take a minute for the expected outburst to come. "You've gotta be fuckin' kiddin' me, Chou!" Hayato exclaimed, that wild look that lay dormant in his eyes coming forth.

"I'd be grateful to you if you could assist him. Just entertain his patron. Don't let him do any talking. Conversation seems to be lost on him. Just show him-"

"There ain't no fucking way I'm helping that Kuchiki bitch!" Snarling he turned back to the mirror, tugging at his sleeves and avoiding eye contact.

"Please Hayato…" Chou plowed on.

"Absolutely not! I'd rather die than help-"

"The shop needs the money!"he snapped before he could stop himself.

"What?" Hayato froze.

He hadn't meant to say it but it was out now and it could not be retracted. With a sigh, he conceded that there was no point in hiding it further. He might as well continue. Hayato wouldn't leave him be after saying something like that.

"Business isn't good. We need the money to survive. Other than you and I there are only two other class threes. It isn't enough."

"We need him," he amended softly.

"What?" Hayato's echoed dumbly, mouth flapping open. His ears must be deceiving him. They were having money troubles? He whirled around."S-Since when?"

Chou exhaled, the only indication that the conversation was bothering him. "A while."

"Wha-"

"There are plenty of class two's, but they aren't requested enough to make it to class three. They don't make enough money and try as they might, the class one's tips aren't enough. We've got competition. The Green Dragon over there in forty-fourth. We need this or we'll _all_ be back out onto the streets!"

Chou was panting; having released all that he'd kept bottled inside he now felt empty, but he refused to break. He met Hayato's eyes and held them, refusing to look away as the gravity of their situation crushed down on their shoulders.

Hayato on the other hand still hadn't gotten around to his unhinged his jaw and his eyes remained wide. He blinked a couple of times, trying to clear the fog that had settled in his brain.

"O-Okay, I understand that maybe we're in some moderate shit, but I don't see why we need him. I could handle it. If I take on more offers I can-"

"You can't do it on your own!"

"Well I sure as hell don't need _his _fucking help!"

Hayato's stubbornness was exhausting and the headache that had been quiet to allow him his shouting match was screaming again. "This is not up for discussion, Hayato."

The both stood straighter, weighing the other's determination.

Chou turned away to leave. Hopefully, something would come out of their little screaming session other than the whole third floor hearing them bicker like an old married couple.

"I'd do anything for you, Chou," Hayato said to his retreating back. "You know that."

Chou tensed and nodded but said nothing.

"Except this," he added quietly after he left.

* * *

Three weeks. Three short weeks was all it had taken from Byakuya's entrance into the night world for him to become sought after and on some level, enough to warrant the rank of a class three. Makoto was surprised, unpleasantly so, by this. It was not Byakuya's doing, he knew that, if anything he was just as startled as Makoto was at his sky-rocketing popularity.

Because, to be one hundred percent truthful, Kuchiki-san was a poor host. The worst he'd had in a while actually. He still chuckled to himself every time the vision of the man's petrified face came to mind and the way he nearly broke the door down trying to escape. Kuchiki's first customer and what he thought would have been his last. It was funny then. It was even funnier watching him serving people. An individual like himself was not brought up in any way to serve or to be less than anything or anyone, and here he was, serving what he must have thought to be lower class peasants considering his background and lineage.

Often the _tokkuri _and sakazuki were thrown down on the table, or slammed down if the patrons looked at him for more than six seconds –and that was if he was in a good mood. When he wasn't, sake would be thrown in faces, in heads of hair and down crotches. What was even funnier, was when anyone had the bright idea to grope him from in front or behind when he passed. People were throttled, tables were overturned, so many things broken and all the sake lain to waste. Ahh the ruckus.

He hadn't had so much fun in years! Not that it was fun watching him being touched by others, but his reactions were priceless.

But what was not funny - what was not entertaining or hilarious or even remotely amusing, was when people's attitudes towards him changed. One incident that lingered in Makoto's mind that he remembered clearly was a week back.

He'd been doing a routine check of the general area to make sure everything was in order. That was his sole reason really…. If he so happened to be in the opposite place of where Chou was, well that that was pure coincidence.

It wasn't like he was finding things to do so the he wouldn't be alone with him. Right? Right.

Kuchiki-san had been sitting at the very end of table. He had the unfortunate pleasure of having a man by the name of Oshirou Akio that night.

Akio was a callous man, hard jawed and rugged. He looked good for his age and he was by no means young. His black hair had only a few white strands running through, and his blue eyes were cold and hard. A jagged scar sealed his left eye shut and he made up for it by training his right eye to see everything short of the particles in the air.

Makoto watched as the man eyed a bit of exposed skin from a gap in Kuchiki-san's kimono with frosty hunger. "Pour me some sake."

Kuchiki refused, he didn't even look his way. Akio wasn't deterred by this. "I said, pour me some sake," he repeated tapping the cane hat he carried –though it wasn't needed –against the floor. His cold eyes slid over Byakuya's fingers and the numerous bandages across his body. This made Makoto shudder.

Aiko was known for his wealth, but every time he came he just drank sake, engaged the class ones in talk and watched the little performances on stage. He never requested anything higher than a class one. Pinching his pennies or whatever his reason.

Byakuya replied with a look of utter hatred. He didn't have enough time to react, Makoto hadn't even seen when the man moved, but faster that lightning he had sprang up and lashed Byakuya across his fingers with his cane, squeezing his jaw with a big hand and forcing him to meet his eyes.

All Makoto could think was oh shit. His heart hammered against his rib cage. He'd heard rumors, but that was all he thought them to be. Now he knew they were not. This man was dangerous. Not someone to mess with.

"Now, in the future, when I tell you to do something, I trust you'll obey?"

His foot came up to the table with ease crushing the fingers, while the other hand continued its bruising grip on Byakuya's face.

"No?"

Makoto was willing Byakuya in his head to just say yes. But he didn't. He wouldn't.

Akio laughed dryly. "I like your type. I'll take pleasure in making you _obey_." It was a threat with the promise of being carried out.

They had an audience by now, every eye drawn to their little scene. And those who were like Akio, those who got immeasurable pleasure from dominance, were especially attentive. Those who craved the credit for the subjugation of a wild beast. Those who lived for the thrill and adrenalin rush of taming the untamable. And that was what Kuchiki-san was.

Makoto still had a reputation and image to uphold, so he'd chosen that exact moment to come out. Casting an indifferent look on the Kuchiki heir as he would a regular worker, he'd politely reminded him that ill treatment of the charges wasn't tolerated. Akio had indulged him with an apologetic nod of the head and a bulging satchel for his misconduct.

He'd turned away, using all his strength to ignore Byakuya and his trembling hands, but the damage had already been done.

The hungry looks were already eating the Kuchiki alive. He was young, beautiful and most importantly, a challenge. An obstacle to overcome in order to gain the ultimate prize.

Word spread quickly throughout the districts, too quickly, and Kuchiki –san was at the stage now where everyone knew the name Daimiki of Ecstasy.

Chou, had been sulky and reserved for a week. Makoto figured it was because Kuchiki –san wasn't doing so well and he was correct because as soon as the tables turned, Chou was walking on air again. He was still a little too light footed even today when he told Makoto that he'd be in his office at one o'clock that afternoon for a _discussion_.

It was cryptic but it was still the middle of the day so Makoto didn't have to worry about Chou using that as an excuse and jumping him as soon as he went in.

Knowing full well that he detested _tea_, Chou still insisted he brew some and bring _two _cups. Stopping outside the door to his office, he winced when he thought about all the cleaning Chou might be up to.

Honestly what was it with them and cleaning?

He opened the door, balancing the tray in one hand. "You'd better not be t-"

His gaze fell upon a second guest in the room who Chou had just turned away from talking to.

"Oh, Ma- chan. What took you?"

"K-Kuchiki- san…"

He found it strange, how Byakuya wasn't looking at him. He found it strange how Chou was trying to wrestle his features into choosing between showing his contriteness or his victorious smirk. "I was just explaining to Kuchiki –san here, what you discussed with me last night."  
_  
Last night…. What the_…._what is he talking about?  
_  
Makoto's voice failed him. Why was Byakuya here?

What was this foreboding feeling?

Chou finally decided on an expression. Malevolent, victorious, toothy sneer. "You know, about his _promotion_ to a class two. It's well earned and a wise decision on your part, Ma-chan."

With a loud crash, two expensive tea- cups and ceremonial tray were added to the list of replaceables.

* * *

**Tokkuri – Sake flask  
Sakazuki –saucer-like cup used to drink sake**


	5. Escape

So…. Um… hey *nervous laugh* sooo sorry but if you're a loyal reader I guess you aren't that surprised hehe. I procrastinate and get new ideas daily that I just HAVE to try out. Don't hate me. I wish I had more time to write and still plot at the same time lol. I'm a very slow writer damn it. Thank you for all your support and reviews and favs! They mean so much to me and motivate me!

Tidbit – I had a hard time working out the pairing. I couldn't find anyone to pair Byaku boo with. I didn't want Renji because without drastically changing his personality this would be pure crack. I mean, I could've made it work but… you know _ mumbles. Now I'm wondering how it would've been if I'd done it that way… damn it

Oh here's a link to some stuff I drew *cough* .com/gallery/ they suck but check em out to get a general view of the chars :D

**

* * *

  
**

The sixty-ninth district in Rukongai only found peace and quiet in the dead of night. That was when all the brawling and screaming stopped and quick silent assassination was preferred to rowdy day fights. People shut up in their houses, dojos closed to surround their members with privacy for night activities, and the cold wind kept every warm body inside.

He couldn't go inside. He didn't have an inside to go to for a long time now.

He'd spent many a night roaming the alleys and rubbish strewn streets in search of food, water, someone willing to take him in.

Anything. Anyone.

It was on a warm night when she came, moving easily through the dirty street, her beautiful red kimono billowing at her ankles.

The first thing that drew his attention to her, was her appearance, for she looked terribly out of place. Dilapidated houses, peasants sleeping among garbage, remains of various things at her feet, while she, clean and elegant, beautiful and radiant, seemed far too good to walk here. She did not look as if she was aware of this, or if she was, it was nothing that could deter her.

Hands tucked into her sleeves, head held high and proud, she moved slowly, almost without purpose, unless one noticed the subtle determination in her eyes.

He had wondered how she managed to spot him. Huddled in a corner in a nest of trash and old cloths he was supposed to be properly concealed, but something made her stop at that exact moment and look down. Right into his eyes.

He looked away, afraid of soiling her with his filth by just a glance but he could feel her eyes on him. _She must be lost_, he thought, a noble who had strayed away from her house or her family and found herself here. But to be so far in the bowels of Rukongai, alone at this unearthly hour …

She knelt down, unafraid of the grime and the dirt, and held out a slender hand while smiling down at him.

Fear kept him frozen, unable to believe what was happening, what she was offering. He wanted to take it, to accept her hand, but he'd been tricked before. Abused and used for others' personal interest and what suited them.

Oh how he wanted to trust her, to believe that her sweet smile was genuine – so much that it was nearly painful. But how could he clutch to a stranger so easily?

"Come with me. I won't hurt you, I promise," was what she said, easily reading his face, her own softening in response.

It wasn't usual for someone to approach him like this. What did she really want?

Even though his heart was hesitant, his body was not and he could only feel himself reaching for her, unable to resist. She may, like the others, offer false promises to gain his trust and then get rid of him after he' served his usefulness. It was as much a possibility as anything.

He counted himself lucky, many were impoverished but not many got the opportunities he was offered – even if he was being used.

Without releasing his hand even once, she led him by the light of only the waning, yellow crescent moon, through the winding streets. It felt strange, but at the same time nice, to be in the presence of a beautiful woman. And she was touching him. Willingly! His face heated up when he thought about it or the occasional glimpses of their joined hands when he looked down.

It hadn't taken long; a good half hour would have been a safe guess, until she stopped in front of the large door of her… home? She certainly looked the type that would own a house of this caliber.

She looked back at him and smiled. "Well, this is it." Face bright red and nodding vigorously, he kept his eyes on the ground.

Without even having to announce her arrival, two men from on the inside opened the doors as soon as they had gotten there. They bowed to her and she gave a short nod of her head, walking up the stone path with him in tow.

Being so close to it he could no longer call it a house. That word felt to diminish its true grandeur, for it had as many as five levels and from the light of the hanging lanterns, he could see that it was painted a bright red, much like the rouge on her lips.

Inside was warm and bathed in a green light. He immediately recoiled at the amount of people, all well dressed in fine clothes and _clean_. Feeling a little embarrassed, he unconsciously held onto her hand tighter but no one spared him a second glance, and for that he was thankful.

She took him on the very last floor where there was one grand suite. A bedroom and sitting room combined from the looks of it. It smelled nicely, of fruits and flowers.

"Make yourself comfortable."

On the floor was where he chose to sit. He'd never seen such an enormous room in his entire life. He looked around in awe; feeling very small compared to it.

She approached him quietly and drew him up to sit with her in one of the soft chairs. Stunned by this, he tried his best to discretely maneuver his himself so that as little as possible of his body actually touched the soft material and avoided eye contact.

She tilted his chin with one small finger to encourage him to look at her, pushing aside some of the matted hair that fell into his eyes.

No one had ever treated him this way, with a smile warm enough to make the pain feel like pin pricks when compared to it.

"I hope you will grow to like it here… and somehow find the strength to forgive me through the hate you may harbor."

_Hate…?_

"W-Why would I hate you?"

What she meant exactly, he didn't know at the time. Was he imagining the sad almost regretful look on her face?

She graced him with another sympathetic smile. "What is your name?"

"Call me what you like. I don't have a name."

"Poor thing. Would t be alright if I gave you one?" she asked, her voice brimming with something hopeful.

He could not believe what she was asking. Still astonished, he nodded stiffly.

"Alright. May I think about it first? Something that important needs to be special."

"Hai, Ojou-sama."

She did not protest, only continued to smile, picking at the fraying edges of his yukata idly.

He was treated to a meal and a roof over his head; these were enough to outweigh any negative thoughts he might have had about his living arrangements. And of course, her smile helped matters.

For the first two months, he was required to stay in this room and out of sight, which he felt a little perturbed by because it was _her_ room that he'd have to share.

Not having much experience, and not having been in such close proximity to women for an extended amount of time, he covered his ears to drown out the sounds of fabric sliding over her skin whenever she dressed and undressed. She found his shy naivety amusing and teased him by asking that he bring articles of clothing for her that she deliberately left just to see him blush.

But he never had a cage, and as much as he wanted to enjoy the privileges she provided, the trapped feeling worsened.

He learned that there were many connected houses and rooms on her estate and that she had her own private place she retreated to when the time allowed. The room they shared was her main office

At night, when she conducted business, he was to stay hidden.

Vibrant like a newly blossomed spring flower, he admired her beauty and enjoyed her liveliness.

What had he done to deserve this? To deserve her and her kindness? She had given him clothes, food, shelter and he had nothing to offer her in return.

"Please allow me to repay you somehow," he squeaked, submerged in a ground-scraping bow. "Please..."

"I told you already, it's not necessary."

"Yes but-"

"There is nothing I want to ask from you."

"Please, I don't feel right sleeping here and eating and not doing anything in return. I'll do anything, t-that you ask."

She sighed impatiently. He was so stubborn and the look in his eyes said that he would insist on this for a very long time.

"I told you not to kneel like that." She gave the pipe between her lips a light tap with her fingers, examining his hunched body. He had changed so much since she first brought him here. He looked much healthier but…happier? _No._

"S-Sorry, Ojou- sama."

He still wouldn't lift his head, and she wanted to admonish him for his repeated – unnecessary – formality, but decided against it. That was just who he was, she decided.

If keeping him occupied would make him happier, then she would think of nothing else but to make him happy. She could not allow him to work there but she could spare him a bit of freedom.

She no longer confined him to her room. He could explore the premises under one condition; that he remained out of sight, which meant not at night, when they did _business_. He was not told what sad _business _was.

But as he perused the halls silently, employing his years knowledge in thieving stealth, he saw the true face of his new home.

A house of male prostitutes.  
_  
"I hope you will grow to like it here… and somehow find the strength to forgive me through the hate you may harbor."_

Was this what she meant? Did Ojou- sama think he would feel hatred toward her if he knew?

How could he, he was no better than dirt.

He was no stranger to the shadier places that hid and came to life in the cover of darkness, but this was entirely new and when he slunk back to her room with the rising sun the night he found out, she would not face him.

"So now you know. What will you do?"

"Did you think I would think less of you?"

She whipped around, tears springing in her eyes. "Do you?"

"It's not my place to judge anyone. You saved me and you've been kind to me. That's all I need to know," he said shyly, hands on his knees and looking at the ground. He meant every word of it. He could not count the many things she had given him, nor even try estimate how much he owed her for everything she did for him.

In the amount of time he had been with her, or maybe from the very first time he saw her, he had fallen in love, with the beautiful, caring woman that had taken him in, whose hazel eyes and smile did something to him that he could not understand.

But something else beyond his comprehension and control was also happening, the lingering effect of life, surrounded by the sight and smell and feel of men. The sounds of them.

She was the one he loved, and he was overjoyed when she turned a lover's eye on him, but something inside of him had already been taken and it angered her.

Although he felt badly about it, although it felt like betrayal to his savior, he knew within his heart that he could not love her, and thus denied her advances.

It would only hurt them both.

And when she sat by his side to watch him sleep, when she thought he was unaware, he could see the pain written clearly across her features, feel the resentment when she raked her nails across his stomach.

He knew, that she herself knew, that it was her fault he could never love her. It was by her doing.

He wanted to ask if that was the real reason why he was brought there. Did she treat him kindly to one day ask him to self himself?

"Everyone that lives here needs to earn their keep." Her voice was cold and she no longer had smiles to spare.

"P-Please…Ojou-sama, I-I can't- I don't-"

"Then you can't stay here." She turned away from his tiny, sobbing frame backed up against the wall.

"Ojou … sama..."

"Those are the rules," she said harshly, ignoring the small whimpering noises he was making and masking her pain well.

Her eyes narrowed, lips curving into a sneer. "Unless-"

Nothing but a solitary straw, out of desperation clutched at like a dangling rope. Anything to pull himself up, allowing air to enter his lungs again. He could not return to the cold and hunger. He could not!

"Unless what? Please Ojou- sama tell me, I'll do anything I'll-"

"You may stay for as long as you like, and you would not be required to _work_ here, _Makoto_-"

His eyes widened, bright green swimming with tears, heart light. "Thank y-"

"_Only,_ if you agree to become mine and sacrifice your freedom. Your _body_ and soul will belong to me. You may never leave me."

A strangled sob escaped his mouth, his entire body trembling. He didn't have an ounce of strength to speak. She pulled him into her arms, closing her eyes and taking in the feel of his body on hers.

Her own from now on. Lovely.

_Makoto._

For the first time in his life someone shed tears for him.

_…and somehow find the strength to forgive me through the hate you may harbor."_

* * *

The vicious battle raged onward between the two opposing parties, decimating anyone in its wake and leaving a trail of broken debris behind.

Takahashi Makoto, the head strong but inexperienced foot soldier took the direct approach, attacking where and whenever he saw an opening, no matter how small. He never missed a chance for a shouting match though it was mostly in the privacy of his room or when no one was around to hear.

He was the cautious one, not wanting to worry his troops. The one who would fight alone, rather than put others in danger.

Chou, the general; the seasoned, weathered, strategist, was more brazen, and thus more cunning. He picked fights among crowds, more willing to challenge Makoto's view in a compromising situation with many eyes, where the young soldier would need more than a sound defense.

Makoto would be put on the spot, having to justify his reasons for being angry about something like the promotion of a worker. And the critical eyes and ears would also be sharp, expecting an explanation. He had no choice but to retreat and concede victory to Chou on those occasions.

Byakuya witnessed it all in a semi- detached state even though he was the fuse for the ongoing strife. He said nothing in his defense nor did he argue about his appointment. Grateful as he was for Takahashi san's resentment on his behalf, he did not involve himself directly.

Chou had informed him that he'd no longer be served in his room and that he would have to take meals with everyone else, yet Takahashi brought him food to his room every day. Byakuya suspected this was to spite Chou.

Sometimes the man stayed with him while he ate, but kept unnaturally silent. Other times he just came and inquired how he was feeling before offering him a sad smile and then leaving immediately after.

Byakuya had been given a week – a generous consideration, he was told – to adjust to his situation and to_ collect_ himself. A gift from Makoto. How exactly this was to be done, he did not know.

He held the chopsticks in his hands tightly, while he thought things through. His rice had long since grown cold and so had his tea. Makoto was occupying a corner in his room, somber as usual, gazing outside and fanning himself idly. Byakuya wasn't in the habit of asking too many questions but there were things that he was curious about.

"Takahashi –san?"

"Hmm?" he answered distractedly.

"You're the owner of this establishment, are you not?"

Makoto lips curved into a small smile. "The way you say it makes it sound like a legitimate enterprise. Why do you ask?"

Byakuya's question was harmless, a reiteration of the obvious, and he was not a man to ask a question with an obvious answer. There had to be a meaning behind it.

"Chou –"

"It's complicated." With a heavy sigh, Makoto cut him off before he got further.

"What is? That you – as the owner – promoted me and yet for some reason it appears to be Chou's doing?"

"How sharp you are," Makoto muttered quietly.

"Do not take me for a fool."

"I don't." He turned away from the window to look at Byakuya. "I do not wish this for you Kuchiki-san. I-I did not make that decision."

"Then why did you send that man to give me an ultimatum? I was told that if I did not co-operate, the shinigami would be told my location."

_Hayato… So that's how they got you here…_ "That was not my doing, I swear."

"I surmised as much," Byakuya replied, taking a sip of his tea. His hands were doing much better, and didn't bring him much discomfort now.

Makoto crawled over to him.

"How do you feel about… all this?"

No one had asked him that before, not in the entire amount of time that he was here. "How am I supposed to feel?"

"Angry, bitter… I don't know – anything."

"What good would unwarranted emotions bring?"

"K-Kuchiki-san," he said sadly, wanting nothing more that to reach out and touch him but restraining himself seeing as he didn't have a proper reason. Simply because he wanted to, was _not _a reason.

"Do you—what I mean to say is, are you… attracted… to men?"

Another important question that no one had deemed necessary to ask.

Byakuya hesitated. He'd never given it much thought even despite the storm in which he now found himself caught in. He'd had many marriage proposals from several noble households, offering their daughters' hands in marriage.

Byakuya had never cared for any of them and found them all to be bothersome, well placed dolls, cut from the same cloth and stitched with the same pattern. They all behaved the same, acted the same and sometimes even looked the same in appearance.

It was all about presentation of the gift and not necessarily the content, in the circle of wealth.

Did that mean that he was attracted to men? He had certainly never felt anything for a member of the opposite sex.  
Apparently it was too long of a pause. Makoto thought he was offended.

"I'm sorry, that was too personal of a question. You don't have to answer. It doesn't matter if you are or not. You still should not be here."

Byakuya took another sip of tea. Hearing this brought no comfort as it could not be remedied by words. "Do you wish to discuss all the reasons I should not be here?"

"No." Makoto leaned closer, a seemingly casual movement but then pressed his fingers against Byakuya's bandaged ribs. Despite himself the teacup in his hand jerked a little and the slightest bit of pain showed on his face, Makoto gauging his reaction all the while.

"I was never a brave man, Kuchiki-san. I could never fight, or maybe I should say, I never tried to. I accepted all that I was given, feeling too weak to have a choice. I've made my bed and I deserve to lie in it. You are not like me."

Makoto withdrew his hand and stood up. With his fan splayed out and coving the lower half of his face only his eyes could be seen, eerily dull and despondent in the dying evening light.

"It is most peaceful, in the hour just before dawn. Take what you want, if anything at all. You won't have much time but I'll serve as a distraction for the most watchful."

He stared at Byakuya for a moment, waiting until the true intent of his words hit home and then nodded. "If you have a good head start all may not be lost.

Makoto turned away from him.

"Good luck," he said quietly. It appeared he wanted to say more but didn't.

Byakuya wrestled with himself and muttered, "thank you" just as Makoto slid the door shut behind him.

The evening faded slowly into night and the house came alive. Byakuya stared down at his tea, unable to suppress the feeling of hope that surged within him.

He had just been given an escape. Admittedly, he was not fully healed but that certainly wouldn't stop him from taking this offering.

* * *

He did not sleep that night. His body was thrumming with anxiety. Would this method succeed? Could he really get away?

There was a light knocking on his door when the noise died down, and in between the small space in which the door was opened, something was inserted.

It must have been early in the morning. The sky was still dark, meaning that it was still a ways before the time Makoto suggested. Byakuya walked over to it and picked it up. It was his sword folded within a cloak.

Wrapped up inside was a piece of paper. _Now._

He refolded it, tucked it away and picked up his sword. The cloak wrapped around to cover his face and to protect him from the falling dew, he approached the window. The height would be a problem.

He made up his mind that he would not be stopped. His chest pained but he paid it no heed. With an intake of breath to prepare himself and call back upon the skills he'd been taught, he jumped up onto the window sill and was in the flower field of the backyard garden moments later.

He landed smoothly, and no sooner than when his feet touched the wet grass did he take off, running a fast as his legs allowed.

Scaling the walls of the The moonlight illuminated his way, his sword held tightly at his side.

The wind whispered in his ears as he ran. It was said so quietly. He only heard it, carried on the wind.

"Way of Binding no. 63: Winding Binding Chains."

Pressure seized his chest, his hand restricted to his sides and he fell, face first into the dirt.

*****

* * *

Forgive me if the last bit seemed rushed. I couldn't get it to work for me*dies* Uh, let me just say that in the first half Makoto is equivalent to 16 years old and Ojou-sama – 27. Now some ages to clarify a few things

Byakuya –22  
Makoto – 27  
Chou – 38  
Hayato - 33  
Ichigo- 25  
Renji – 19  
:D Bet you're wondering about the last two eh wink wink*  
Those are just to get an idea. I don't know how Seireitei's age system works _

Makoto means – Sincerity

TBC~


	6. Bought?

Tidbit: While I was on the bus coming back from town I was thinking (random stuff) and then my eyes landed on a strip club. I thought, hmm would I work there? Could I work there? I thought 'no, I could never' because even if it s a bit, I have some pride. So I said hmm how would someone with more pride than I fare…so I chose Byaku-boo as the main char XD

I know, I know, I took forever again sorry sorry sorry sorry. *shares love* cuz you guys keep me inspired with all the love and reviews so remember to review even if it's only one word. Love ya ^_^! I'm on the next chapter as we speak! Un-betaed so my apologies again for any mistakes you find.

* * *

Makoto only allowed his shoulders to sag and rested his back against the wall outside of Kuchiki-san's room, after he came out.

He'd been thinking long and hard about it. About the situation and about what he should do. About what he _could_ do.

It was infuriating.

He had no power to do anything! He was weak. He couldn't even protect what he wanted now that he had found something to.

This was the single conclusion he could come to that would produce some sort of result. Of course, just one person would benefit from it. What was that thing people said about letting something important go if one wanted it to come back?

Kuchiki-san must resent them, even if he didn't say it.

With this, Kuchiki would be free and he, Makoto, would be… alone… _again._ He let out a bitter little laugh.

What the hell was he thinking? Even when Kuchiki-san was there he still was alone, wasn't he? He was sure all the poor boy could think about was a way to get out. Not about the things he did – if he even noticed the little things Makoto did.

He asked Shinu –kun who did the cooking to teach him the finer points of tea brewing so that he could try to bring Kuchiki-san a different kind of tea every day. He made his meals specially, doing his best to make them a notch above what everyone else was having, something close to what he might have had if he was at his home, and maybe, in a way, also trying to compete with all the fancy treatment he was accustomed to. Makoto took it as a good sign that he never complained and ate all that was given. The extensive wardrobe he bought -- he would now have to either keep them or share them between the other boys. The little flowers he brought in from the back garden to give the room some life, the ones that bloomed and grew fragrant only at night to help him sleep…

Why?

Why?

Why?

Why was he doing this, when he had never before? It could not possibly be something as farfetched as love. He hadn't even known Kuchiki that long. He knew nothing about him, and besides, he didn't believe in something so fantastical.

He believed in reality, imperfection and sad endings – in _life._

That's right, he was doing this because he saw himself in the young heir. He didn't want him to end up the same way.

_B-But it was harder to say than I'd thought it would be._ His heart was still beating away to a fierce rhythm.

There were no sounds coming from Kuchiki's room. Was he thinking? Happy to be finally leaving?

Leaving him…

Makoto shook his head and inhaled through his mouth. He was being foolish. There was nothing to be gained from thinking these things.

He had already made up his mind to help Kuchiki- san no matter what and that was that. He had no choice but to follow through on his word and once again, put on a strong front.

***********************************************

* * *

The evening faded quickly, probably the quickest in his memory.

Makoto attended a meeting with a client who came to see him about the purchase of a class three. When he learned that it wasn't 'Daimiki' the man was interested in, but Hayato, he agreed without a lengthy discussion just to get rid of him.

Concentration would not come.

Shinu-kun brought the tea he requested – Chou's favorite— later that night and Makoto made sure to dim the lights to just the right degree – low enough to vague his features but illuminate the split in his yukata. He wore his curls loose, giving them a bit of a tussle for extra measure. Chou often hinted that he preferred it that way.

A distraction was what he needed to be for the time being to allow Kuchiki- san the time required to make an escape. When the time was right, he would give the signal.

Chou was punctual as usual when he unceremoniously yanked open Makoto's door later that night without knocking or announcing himself.

"Would it kill you to knock first?"

Chou smiled. "It might. Besides, why should I?"

"Common courtesy?" Makoto said sarcastically.

"Afraid I'll see you naked? Nothing I haven't seen bef-" His eyes, finally adjusting to the low light, took in Makoto's room – clean and tidy for once, something spicy roaming the air. The unmistakably intimate ambiance covering everything.

"What all this?" he asked, sounding strangely breathless.

"Nothing…special," Makoto lied, looking away through the open door leading to his garden and pushing a steaming cup of tea across the table towards Chou.

"Hmm." Chou let himself in after several seconds, accepting the silent invitation without question. If he felt ill at ease by the scene he did not show it openly. Instead, he deeply inhaled the fruity smell wafting up from the cup and smiled sedately, again, casting his eyes around the room and lingering longer than was proper on Makoto exposed thigh, his eyes narrowing with something cold.

Makoto barely suppressed the urge to cover himself, his twitching hand folded into a fist and on his lap dared not.

Chou's eyes moved so calculative from his legs to his face that for a moment, Makoto thought he had been found out. That Chou saw right through him and what he had done – or was trying to do because he did not touch his tea.

Chou only smiled again though his eyes were cold as he spoke, trying to keep his tone level.

"Ma-chan, you asked to see me. Say _something._"

They were simple words, yet they sent a shiver through Makoto.

True, he was the one who sent the invitation via one of the boys to Chou, making it clear that he had something of importance to discuss with him. In reality he had only planned up to the moment when Chou would come and that was it. There was nothing in particular he wanted to say to him and even though he was basically dangling himself like bait, he did not want to be caught. But this to save Kuchiki so…

He stood up, closing the space that the table made between him and Chou and knelt down before him so that their eyes were level and their knees brushed slightly.

"A-About, Kuchiki-san…"

Chou's loud sigh was punctuated by a short laugh. "Isn't it always?"

"He doesn't deserve this-"

Chou held Makoto's face with a small hand, a hungry gaze locked on his lips. "Maybe, maybe not. It doesn't matter. Let's not talk about him anymore. It'd be rude to waste this little party you've arranged."

"Wha-"

His words were cut off by Chou's mouth pressed on his, firm and demanding, leaving no room for arguments. He was swift, his tongue finding its way in Makoto's mouth and trying to devour him.

He let out a muffled grunt, his back colliding with the ground as Chou straddled him. It only took two seconds for him to find himself sprawled out on the floor with his yukata pushed aside exposing his legs, one of Chou's knees applying pressure to his groin while also preserving his modesty.

When he broke the kiss, Chou held back to examine Makoto's face, running a finger across his lips and pinning down the hand that he had moved between them to restrict closeness. Makoto squirmed under the intense gaze. "Lovely as always… If only this wasn't a diversion."

Surprised, Makoto stiffened reflexively. Chou's triumphant smile grew wider.

"Though they may not look it, the walls have ears, and eyes. They hold loyalty to no one and keep secrets for none. It wounded me greatly, to know that you would conspire against me with _that_."

Makoto vaguely felt himself shaking but he knew he was. How did Chou know about a decision he'd planned only hours before?

The silence stretched on as Makoto tried to make his brain catch up. Startled, he couldn't find a word to defend himself or rebut Chou's accusation.

"I'm curious Ma-chan, why didn't you offer him a deal, like you were when you were like him?" Chou asked, shifting his hips and rubbing himself on Makoto.

"I would never insult his pride!"

"Hmm. He might have been yours unconditionally though if you had," he said deliberately, smirking and leaning in closer.

The look of condescendence on his face made a part of Makoto angry, more so than his words. He hated that look and something inside made him want to erase it.

"But-"

"But?" Chou challenged.

"But, deep down, he would _always_ resent me for it… and… he would never truly love me because of a decision forced on him for my benefit –"

_smack!_

Chou's hand connected with his cheek in a loud slap.

The hurt on his face unmistakable, his body went lax in that moment and Makoto took advantage, throwing him off and touching the stinging spot on his face gingerly. He hadn't meant to say those things and so fiercely at that. His face hurt and he knew that Chou was hurting more, but he did not want to apologize. He was angry at him! Angry that he was forcing this kind of lifestyle on people. Angry that he was now sitting there rigidly and looking utterly pitiful – not outwardly of course, but Makoto knew him long enough to know.

Angry that he had found out the escape plan before they even had a chance to execute it. _Shit._

The noise from the outside felt like he was stepping out of a dream and back into reality when he rushed out to warn Kuchiki-san that the circumstances had changed. And after he'd built his hopes up too. But Chou knew and that was a liability. It would not be safe tonight.

He was so surprised that Chou didn't follow him immediately that he almost fell over a table in the main room. Not a very dignified thing for a manager to do.

He knocked. In fact he knocked thrice in succession but to no avail. No answer.

"Kuchiki-san, I'm coming in," he said while letting himself in. Moonlight painted the empty room a wistful shade of blue and Makoto felt his heart sink.

Kuchiki-san was gone. Did he already escape? How?

His futon was still warm. If he'd held him when he had the chance, would his body this warm too, he wondered.

Was he safe?

Makoto was certain that Chou was still in his room and Kuchiki had not too long left. Chou would not suspect that they would still execute their plan if he knew.

Why would Kuchiki-san leave without waiting for his signal? Was he in that much of a hurry to get away? Who wouldn't be?

But as long as he was safe. That was all that mattered.

Makoto took a deep breath. And another.

And another.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

* * *

Thankfully, Chou was not in his room when Makoto had returned early this morning. He'd wanted to be alone in battling a fierce migraine. He hadn't consumed any alcohol, hadn't eaten anything that would make him sick – that he knew of – and yet his head vibrated with pain at the slightest movement or sound. If possible, he wanted to be left alone for the day also, to get some rest, but Chou storming in his room when dawn broke made it impossible.

Because lying down made him feel nauseas, Makoto sat at his desk, hunched over, eyes closed and massaging his temple with a gentle thumb.

Chou was cold. He ignored him as he seated himself on the floor by the window. Makoto wasn't sure how to react to this. He had all the space he needed without Chou on his back but… he really should apologize for what he said last night.

His features no longer contained any hurt. Except for being unnaturally quiet, one wouldn't be able to sense the difference.

"Chou…"

Chou's jaw set, stiff and unrelenting and he eyed him sideways without turning his head.

"That expression doesn't suit you at all. You look constipated not threatening." Makoto smiled and Chou eased a little. "I-I'm sorry."

Chou opened his mouth to say something when Makoto's door was pulled open so hard it rattled. _Fucking hell another no- knocker_, he fumed.

Turning his head agonizingly slow so that he wouldn't puke, the men were already halfway across his room. Not acknowledging him. "Oi."

Flanked by two of the biggest men imaginable, strutted Oshirou Akio like he owned the damn place, his cane clicking the wood with every step he took.

"Wait outside," he instructed the horribly oversized people and they were so obedient! They went without missing a beat! Where could be find bodyguards like those?

"Chou- san." Akio smiled in greeting. A small one. Makoto had the feeling it was all he could manage. Men like him didn't smile, they smirked or sneered or killed a person for suggesting it.

Chou bowed his head. "Aki-san, it's been too long." That fake smile of Chou's was a dangerous thing.

Makoto hadn't forgotten about Akio. Secretly he'd been glad when the man was scarce after his encounter with Kuchiki-san.

"What's wrong with him?" Akio asked with a lazy flick of his head, referring to Makoto like some pet lying in a pile of piss.

Chou barely looked Makoto's way. "The sickness of youth."

He and Akio both smirked in some kind of secret understanding. Makoto didn't reply. He wasn't being addressed directly but being talked about as if he wasn't there.

"So,what brings you by, business or _pleasure_?" Chou purred.

"It's a thin line."

"I thought you weren't in the practice of purchasing company."

"I've never had an _interest_ before."

"You do now?"

Makoto felt the fear rake through him. He didn't like where this was going. Kuchiki was the only new addition and the only supposed _interest _Akio could be referring to. But he was gone wasn't he?

His chest hurt.

Yes, Kuchiki was gone so there was nothing to worry about. He'd definitely escaped last night. Definitely. Definitely.

"I've found… a possible challenge that could suitably entertain me."

"Oh? And that would be…?"

"Daimiki," he replied in a low grumble.

Chou's face was blank.

"Quite the wise investment, Chou. You've always had a good eye."

"I consider it quite the honor to be praised by you Aki-san. Daimiki –san is a rare find so as you know, I can't very well give him away."

"Of course. Fifteen thousand. After a few conditions are met."

Makoto knew that Chou wanted to smile and if possible throw in a happy dance or two when he covered the lower half of his face with his sleeve – a habit he had to hide his approval when it was uncontainable.

"Go ahead," he urged.

"Daimiki is to belong to me and _only _to me. No one else is to touch him."

"You're familiar with the rules Aki-san. That's not possible. His level doesn't permit it."

"What would it take."

"For him to have specific clients, he'd have to be a class three. He's only a two right now."

"Then make him a three but he's to be mine alone," Akio threatened.

"And then? I've had a lot of requests for him. What I am to say to those who would also pay for him? That's not a very good business move you want me to make."

"I'll give you whatever they're willing to pay for him. As a start, an extra twenty-five thousand."

Chou smiled. "And your other condition?"

"I have full rights to do whatever I want to him."

"No!"

Makoto covered his mouth too late. It was already out, but it didn't matter as neither of them even acknowledged he'd spoken. He didn't care. He couldn't let Akio have Kuchiki, anyone but him.

"Done."

"Chou-chan!" Makoto shouted, unable to believe what the man just did.

"He's clean?" Akio continued.

Chou nodded.

"And untouched?"

"You'll be the first. No one else has had him as yet."

Even though his flushed face might not have been a pretty or menacing picture, Makoto stood up abruptly, slamming his hand down on his desk, finally catching their attentions.

What was Chou trying to do? Kuchiki was gone. And Makoto would be a fool to consider any idea with the fact that Chou was oblivious to it. Was he planning on fooling Akio into paying him money and then feigning ignorance of Kuchiki's disappearance when Akio found out? Not a sensible thing to do but something that Chou would do.

Or worse, was he planning on tracking him down?

Akio looked to Chou for an explanation of the outburst.

"A child letting go of his first toy. No cause for concern."

Akio nodded. "The agreement is sealed then?"

"Yes."

"Let me see him."

"Of course. Hayato bring Daimiki!"

Makoto didn't feel nervous, in fact he felt composed. Thinking that Hayato would be going to Kuchiki-san's room to fetch him, Makoto couldn't wait to see their faces when he returned without him.

They were in for a surprise.

* * *

TBC next week~


	7. Caught

There was a rather nasty rumor circulating about Hayato lately that he didn't like it. First of all, it was inaccurate. If you're going to spend time gossiping idly make sure the information was correct.

It seemed people were saying that he disliked the boss, Makoto. The nerve of some people.

This was untrue.

He didn't dislike Makoto; he in fact hated the fucking spoiled brat.

He reeked of one of those clueless lumps of flesh that were just so fortunately blessed by lady luck that good things always fell into their undeserving laps. Someone who would stumble across gold and mistake it for copper. Someone just begging for it to be stolen away from right under their nose, but so irritatingly lucky, that the thief might fall to his death before he even reached him.

Truth be told, he only tolerated Makoto. Barely. If it wasn't for Chou… let's just say the many opportunities to dispose of him would not have gone overlooked.

_Chou…_

Hayato sloshed his drink around, feeling a little bored by the uneventful evening. Unlike certain others – mainly everyone sitting down the table from him – gossip did not amuse him in any way or added interest in his day.

Frankly he was tired and would like nothing more than to curl up in his bed a sleep forever. But that was not an option. Evening was setting, they would soon open for business, his work needed to be done.

There were no gasps of surprise when the glass he threw across the room shattered against the wall. Some looked at him fearfully – assuming he'd grown angry because they were talking about him less that a breath away, others who knew him fairly well and were used to his behavior didn't even look his way.

Evenings unsettled him, even after so many years...

He folded his itching fingers into fists, restlessly curling and uncurling them. He needed something. What, he wasn't sure.

Something to do maybe?

There was a spot on the roof that only the agile would find. He went there often. Watch the sunset? Nah, too still.

Pay a visit to the Kuchiki, ruffle his feathers?  
Sleep until opening time?

All promising ideas to push aside the one he really wanted to do.

He sighed, dragged his hands down his tired face and then picked the one that sounded most fun and thought consuming.

Picking on Kuchiki it was. He hadn't seen the little snot in weeks. He could also kill three birds with this one stone. Aggravate Kuchiki, which would in turn aggravate Makoto while simultaneously pleasing Chou.

This was a spur of the moment decision, yet he had to marvel at his luck. If he had rested as he had originally wanted to do, he would have went straight to his room – Kuchiki's was at the end – so if not for the intention to go there, he would not have heard the most curious of things being said.

His hand rested on the door, preparing to open it but stopping when he heard the voices. A tiny crack provided enough space for him to see inside.  
_  
"It is most peaceful, in the hour just before dawn. Take what you want, if anything at all. You won't have much time but I'll serve as a distraction for the most watchful."  
_  
That was Makoto.

Hayato's eyes widened, and after a minute or so, his grin followed.

He wasn't hearing things. He wasn't seeing things.

He moved away quietly. It was by pure coincidence that he heard the exchange. Or maybe it was fate finally throwing the little lamb Makoto into his waiting jaws.

He wasted no time in finding Chou, barging into his room in his haste to relay the news. Fuck. He'd become a gossiper.

This wasn't gossip!

"Hayato!"

Chou hurried to cover himself, in the progress of dressing when Hayato burst in.

Hayato turned around quickly to give him some privacy, scratching his neck in a nervous fluster. "Sorry, forgot my manners."

"You'd better have a good reason for barging in here," Chou snapped, still in a huff about being interrupted.

"I do." Hayato turned around just as Chou was tying his obi.

"And it is?" Chou sat down, ruffling his wet hair and searching through items on his crowded dresser, probably for his pipe.

"Though it pains me to tell ya this, I've just gotten a hold of a valuable piece of information," he said teasingly, folding his arms and leaning against the wall as he smiled at Chou.

"Yes, I can see your _pain_."

"It appears little _Ma- chan_ is up to no good."

"Makoto?"

"I just heard 'im scheming with the Kuchiki. Seems like they're looking ta pull a fast one on ya. In short, he's planning to let him escape."

"Where did you hear such foolishness?"

"F-Foolishness?" he sputtered, blinking in disbelief.

"Do not waste my time, Hayato. If that's all you have to say you should get ready for the opening."

Yeah. It stung.

To know that Chou didn't believe him or considered his words for a second before completely reproving him. Was he not trustworthy enough? Hayato was not a man to let things bother him but he knew that if it was precious _Ma-chan_, there wouldn't have even been a question of the news' validity.

"That came straight from the horse's mouth. I overheard them," he said through gritted teeth.

"Makoto wouldn't do something that stupid."

"Frankly, I'm surprised that you're surprised."

"What proof do you have?"

"Only my word," Hayato said, holding Chou's gaze from in the mirror, as if challenging him to say that it wasn't enough.

"Excuse me Chou- sama?" The muffled voice came from outside the door, diffusing some of the tension in the room.

"What?"

"Makoto- sama wants to meet with you."

Hayato raised his eyebrows. Chou hesitated, looking directly past Hayato's self-satisfied smirk. "Understood."

"I don't get why you do this to yourself. Let the Kuchiki bitch go. We both know there is a simpler way to solve this."

"There isn't!" Chou swiped his hands across the cluttered surface, sending items flying.

"There is! Makoto could stop playing boss, get a room and let you take over. We both know he's capable. He can do just a good a job as Kuchiki or better!"

"Are you admitting that he's beautiful?" Chou asked smugly, looking back at him.

"I'm just admitting that he'd make a better whore."

Chou's face fell a little, taking on a miserable look. "I-I can't do that, but if you happen to be right… I'll have to take counter measures."

Hayato knew what he was saying. He also knew what Chou would say. He didn't like to see him sad but he made things so much harder than they needed to be. If only he would let go…

"How?"

Chou stood up and smiled at him – more doubt that usual causing it to be a half grimace and not the self-confident glow Hayato was used to.

Hayato did all that he was instructed to do by Chou without question.

He wrote a note to lure Kuchiki out and slipped it inside his room secretly. He then waited outside to capture him if he followed through with it.

He believed that Chou would stop them in advance but then why would he have him write the note? He asked.

"To teach them a lesson. Nothing is more devastating than hopes which are snatched away when they are at their peak."

Damn, Chou was a scary fucker.


End file.
